


Running With The Wolves

by decadent_mousse



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it's there, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hermann is severely touch-starved, Hermann kicking ass and taking names, Hurt/Comfort, I need a hug, M/M, Newt also needs hugs, Pacific Rim: Uprising Spoilers, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Movie, Self-Harm, Spoilers, daily, for the rest of his life, honestly a lot more hurt than comfort, i swear to you, kind of, not a lot, several hugs, sorry just want to reiterate, the man needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: Hermann's reunion with Newt doesn't go exactly how he'd hoped it would.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure a lot of people are going to have similar thoughts and feelings about this but I had A Lot Of Feelings that I needed to get out, so here we are. Anyway, hi! It's been awhile.

He needed to see him.  Of course, he did. How could he not?  (But at the same time, really, how could he?  And that’s why it took him weeks to work up the nerve.)  And now here he was, pacing just before the door to Newt’s cell, trying to conjure up the strength to take those last few steps.

“...Hermann?”

It was his voice, far more tired than Hermann was used to hearing it (not that he’d heard it much at all in the past decade).  It was his face, when Hermann dared to finally peek inside. But how could he be certain that it _was_ him?  He’d been sure before.  It had never crossed his mind -- even for an instant -- that it might not be and why would it?  They'd both drifted with the kaiju and Hermann had come through fine, nightmares aside. He had assumed the same had been true of Newt.

He still didn’t understand how they had taken Newt but not him.

God, why hadn’t it been him?

It wasn’t a rational thought, but for however split a second, it was one he had.  That it could’ve been him sitting in that cell right now instead and that he might have preferred it to this nightmare.

“How did you know it was me?”

Newt had been pacing around his cell restlessly but he stopped to give Hermann a look.  “Like I don’t know the sound of your footsteps after sharing a lab with you for years? Give me _some_ credit, dude.”  He frowned, a distant look in his eyes.  “Not too much, but some.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermann cleared his throat.  “That I didn’t visit sooner.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.  I get it. I do. Are you-- are you okay?  Things are a little hazy, I wasn’t sure if--”

“I’m alright.”

His injuries had been largely superficial.  He wasn’t sure if that would have been the case if their encounter hadn’t been interrupted when it had.  There was little point in giving that thought voice, however. He knew that Newton -- whatever was left of him -- would never have voluntarily hurt him and that he would never have forgiven himself if he’d done something worse.

Would probably never forgive himself for the other things he'd done.

Newt nodded, relief flooding his face.  “Good. That’s-- good. I, uh-- I didn’t mean to hurt you.  You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“...I know.”

“I tried to fight it.  I tried.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Hermann asked.  Pleaded, really. “Sooner? When you felt it happening, why didn’t you--”

“I wish I had.  I really, really, _really_ wish I had, but it’s-- it wasn’t something I noticed happening, you know?  It wasn’t like I felt them barging into my head all of a sudden.”

“Then tell me what it _was_ like.”

_Tell me.  Please, help me understand._

“It was slow.  Sneaky. Little things.  Just little things at first.  Like you said: the nightmares.  At first, it was just that, and that was… normal, right?  Hell, I had some pretty weird dreams even before we drifted, so I didn’t really think twice about it.  ...It was no big deal.”

He fell silent for awhile, and it was an odd kind of quiet.  It wasn’t like Newton at all. He was rarely quiet, and he certainly never just… stopped.  His eyes looked frighteningly vacant for a moment and then he seemed to catch himself, blinking at Hermann.

“Go on.”

“Then... things started happening while I was awake.”

“What sort of things?”

“Hallucinations, I guess?  Or-- I thought-- at least, I thought they were hallucinations.  Looking back on it, I guess it was more like… they were testing things out.  Getting a feel for me.”

“And that didn’t strike you as a little _odd_?”

He couldn’t keep the chastising tone out of his voice and it was ridiculous, really, but for a moment it felt like nothing was wrong.  It felt like the old days, when they’d shared workspace -- shared more than that -- and Newton was as reckless with his own well-being as ever and Hermann was scolding him _again_ because the man seemed incapable of basic self-care and it was infuriating.  It was really only a moment, a fragment, but that feeling of something resembling normalcy -- their old normal -- made his chest hurt.

Newt laughed.  “Well, I mean, it wasn’t _good_ , probably, but exhaustion does that.  It gets to you, you know? When you get really absorbed in work and working on… stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Work stuff.  I don’t know, Hermann.  Just… stuff.”

He was drifting off again, and it wasn’t any less disconcerting the second time around.  What was causing that? It didn’t seem like a struggle for control. It was as though he was there one moment and, the next, simply… gone.  It made Hermann fear that some kind of damage had been done by the hivemind occupying his mind. He could only hope if that were the case, it would be reversible once they found a way to fix this.

“Newt.”  This time, he didn’t immediately respond, he was staring at some point Hermann couldn’t see.  Hermann raised his voice. “ _Newton_.”

Newt’s body jerked and he was focusing on him again.  “Yeah. Yeah. What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  It was just-- you seem distracted.”

“Yeah, well.  It’s been a rough few weeks or… years.”

It was horrible to think about, but he couldn’t help it.  He had to. How much of Newton’s behavior over the past decade had been his own and how much had been the hivemind?  When Newton had left, all those years ago, had that been _his_ choice or had it been…?

He supposed he might never know, now.

“I’ve really missed you, Hermann.  I know it’s-- all kinda screwed up-- I know I screwed up, but I’m still happy to see you.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Newt laughed bitterly.  “Yeah.”

“Are you being treated well?”

He walked over to the door, then, leaning heavily on the frame.  “Yeah. I mean, all things considered. They keep me fed. I have a bathroom.  Well, sort of. It’s, you know-- it works. Kind of hard to pee sometimes when a ranger’s glaring at me like through the window like they wanna kill me, but hey, I’m probably lucky they _don’t_ just kill me.”

“That,” Hermann said sharply, “isn’t going to happen.”

“I hurt a lot of people, Hermann,” Newt said softly.

“That wasn’t you.”

“Yeah.  But it kinda was.”

“It wasn’t.  You would never have done those things had you not been influenced by the hivemind.”

“That’s a pretty shaky distinction, Hermann.  Kinda doubt it would hold up in court.”

“Newton--”

“I swear, I’ll fight harder.  I’m not going to let them use me again.  I think-- I think they’re getting weaker.  Or maybe I’m getting stronger? Maybe seeing you again-- it helped.  I don’t feel like I’m alone anymore.”

He pressed a hand against the glass and Hermann only hesitated a moment before lifting his to meet it.  

“You aren’t alone.  I would’ve tried to help you sooner, had I known.”

“I know you would’ve.”

The glass was far too thick to feel anything through and Hermann was suddenly struck by just how badly he’d missed Newt -- not just his company, but his touch.  He wanted so badly to hold him again. He missed falling asleep beside him on a couch at three in the morning. He missed Newt creeping up behind him, wrapping his arms around him.  Drive-by kisses at all hours of the day or night. The too-short time they’d had together after the war, tired but alive and swimming in each other’s minds. The lazy mornings that had followed -- that they’d _earned_.  

It was selfish of him, perhaps, but all he could think at the moment was how utterly unfair all this was.  It wasn't supposed to be like this.

“Hey, I know it’s probably a lot to ask for, but…”

“Anything in my power to do, I’ll do.”

“It-- they-- haven’t taken control in awhile.  I’ve been-- good, or better, at least. Do you think maybe I could… get out of here?  Just for a little while? Or maybe you could come in here and… spend some time with me? I feel like I’m going crazy in here.  Nobody’d have to find out, right?”

They were so close and yet the space between them felt infinite.  Hermann looked into Newt’s eyes. God, but he loved those eyes.

“Did you really expect me to fall for that?”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Newt said with a grin.

Hermann’s heart plummeted.  “You’re disgusting.”

Newt shoved himself away from the door forcefully and walked back to the other side of his cell.  “That hurts, Hermann.”

“Tell me, was it you the _entire_ time?”

“Now or before?”

“Either.  Both.”

The thing wearing Newt’s face turned around and rolled its eyes.  “He comes and he goes. It’s a little annoying, but I don’t need to tell you that, right?  You know how he gets.”

Hermann’s stomach clenched.  “...Is he in pain?”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?  But I suppose that depends. Are we talking about, like, emotional pain?  Psychological? Because I gotta tell you, Hermann, just between the two of us, our guy wasn’t very well off in _that_ department to begin with.  Do you mean-- physical?” Newton clasped his hands together for a moment before taking one of his fingers and slowly bending it further and further backward until it looked ready to snap.

“Stop!”

Newt laughed, and it wasn’t right or fair, how much like Newt it genuinely sounded like.  It had no right to make that sound.

He released the finger, and some -- but certainly not all -- of Hermann’s tension subsided.  He was going to have to mention to someone, later, the possibility of that _thing_ harming Newt’s body while it occupied it.  He’d been the first to rebel against the idea of full-body restraints, but…  

“Aren’t you going to ask the question that’s _really_ eating at you, though?  Come on, Hermann, I know you wanna.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.  I’ve been inside your head, too, remember?  I don’t know the inside of it nearly as well as I do his, sure, but-- I know you.  You know I do.”

Hermann wouldn’t have thought it ever possible to feel as physically repulsed by Newt’s presence as he did in that moment.  It wasn’t him, he had to remind himself. It wore his face, but it _wasn’t him_.

“If you’re so sure of what I’m thinking,” Hermann replied icily, “then why don’t you just tell me?”

Not-Newt shrugged.  “Okay.” He walked towards the door again.  Hermann tensed and he laughed. “Relax, I don’t bite.”  He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and before Hermann could ask what on _earth_ he was doing, Newt reached inside and pulled out, on a small silver chain--

Hermann kept his face carefully neutral.  He must not have pulled it off especially well, because Newt laughed again, and this time there was something distinctly inhuman in the sound of it.  

“I knew you’d love that one.”

“Are you quite done?”

It pulled the chain up and over his head and held it up, letting the light catch and reflect off the object that dangled from it.  “Pretty stupid, huh? Who keeps a ring _ten years_ after the engagement’s been broken off?  Man, some people just really don’t know when to let go.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.”

“Oh?”

“You’re not him.”

“That’s right.”

“But he’s still in there, I know he is, and I will find a way to drive you out.  Your attempts at diversion are pathetic.”

“Are they, though?  Sure, Newt’s still kicking around in here, but I’ve got bad news for you, Hermann: he’s worn down.  He’s tired. He’s weak. And he’s _shrinking_ .  Early on I had to fight for control, but now?  Dude, do I look like I’m breaking a sweat to you?  Do I look _scared_ to you?  I’m not trying to distract you, Hermann.  Honestly? It’s just really boring in here and breaking your heart’s the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

Hermann chuckled.  “From where I’m standing, it seems to me that the simple fact that there’s anything left of him at all after ten years is proof that your position is not as absolute as you’d like me to think it is.  And the more you gloat, the more transparent your attempts to convince me otherwise become.”

Newt stared at him.  It wasn’t a glare, not exactly, but it didn’t look particularly pleased.  It was an entirely alien look on his face and, Hermann realized, this-- this is what it looked like when it wasn’t pretending to be Newton.  All pretense stripped away, nothing left but cold spite.

“What, no comeback for that one?  You really _aren’t_ him.  Not even close.”

“Fooled you, though, didn’t I?”

“Once,” Hermann said, “but I promise you, the first time will be the last.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Hermann,” it said, waving the ring at him.  

“You never did answer the question.”

It tilted Newt’s head.  “You sure you really want to know?”

It was baiting him.  Truthfully? He did want to know, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to give it the satisfaction of asking.  Besides, no matter what its answer was, he’d have no way of knowing whether or not it was the truth. He’d have to ask Newt, once this was all over.  When it was just the two of them again.

“I’ll visit again soon, Newton.  Good night.”

Newt gave him a sarcastic wave, but as Hermann walked away he could’ve sworn he heard Newt -- _his_ Newt -- softly say, “‘Night, Hermann.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title comes from the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06ht9MyJLT4) of the same name, which came on while I was writing this and ended up being.....................eerily on-point, honestly. I feel personally attacked.
> 
> (The question is whether it was Newt or the hivemind that broke off the engagement and I'm not telling.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to post this separately as a sequel, but then I started writing a third one too and figured it flowed a bit better as chapters rather than a series of one-shots. Anyway I'm mostly flying by the seat of my pants and don't foresee this being more than the original three chapters I wanted to write, but we'll see how it goes? I've been known to get carried away.
> 
> Relatedly, this chapter ended up being almost 5,000 words. I just have a lot of feelings.

Hermann visited Newt regularly after his initial visit.  He couldn’t deny that his interactions with the hivemind were disconcerting at best and stressful at worst -- and he could never be completely sure just how often Newt was actually present -- but he knew it was something he had to do.  Newt was still in there, somewhere, and he needed his help. Hermann seemed to be the only one who’d had any degree of success at getting through to him in past few weeks. He thought so, at least. The hivemind was alarmingly good at mimicking Newt in most respects -- it had to be to have fooled everyone all these years -- but he did genuinely believe that the real Newt did surface from time to time.  That’s what kept him coming. If the visits helped Newt hold on, even by however thin a thread then, well, it was worth a bit of discomfort.

They fell into a sort of rhythm and routine.  He’d talk to Newt, often for quite awhile, before the other thing that occupied his body rose to the surface.  Sometimes it was cruel, sometimes it was conversational. It really just seemed to depend on the mood it was in at any given time.  It never told him anything especially important -- it was too clever to be tricked into revealing any information that might be of use.  When it was especially bored, it liked to try to goad him into anger. Occasionally, he’d bicker back -- partly out of frustration, partly to see if doing so weakened its hold on Newton at all.  

As far as he could tell, it didn’t -- nor did much of anything else.  When the hivemind receded, it always seemed to be because it chose to.  He never saw any sort of struggle and it unnerved him, that he only ever seemed to see the real Newt when the precursors decided to allow it.  Perhaps that was the intent: to upset and demoralize him. He refused to let it work. Or, rather, he refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing whether or not it was working.  Any reactions he had to the things they did or said while wearing Newt’s face, he saved for when he left the room.

The visits were, all in all, fairly uneventful.  

Until today, it seemed.

The first thing he saw when he approached the door of Newt’s cell was a large smear of blood across the glass.

He stared at the door in numb horror, clutching his cane so hard his knuckles, distantly, began to hurt.  Beyond it, he could see Newt, curled up on his bed. His back was to him. He couldn’t tell how badly he was hurt or if--  

“What happened?”

The nearby guard glanced at him uneasily.  “One minute he was ranting about how he was going to squash us all like ants, then he just started hitting the glass.  I told him if he didn’t stop I was going to call someone down to sedate him, so he walked away, laid down, and hasn’t moved since.”

It took an enormous amount of restraint not to snarl at the man, but that would solve nothing, and he was worried that if he made a big enough scene they would stop letting him in to see Newton entirely.  

“And it didn’t occur to you that he might need medical attention?”

The guard sighed.  “It-- wasn’t like that, doc.  I knew you’d be coming along today, eventually.  Didn’t figure there was a point in calling anyone else.”

“Eventually,” Hermann said.  “Meanwhile, he’s been lying in there _bleeding_ and immobile.”

“It’s not that bad,” the guard protested, but Hermann could see the uncertainty in his eyes.  “It’s not like he’s going to die or anything.”

“For your sake, I certainly hope not.  Open the door.”

“I can’t just--”

“There’s only one path out of here and it’s through you.  Even if he were to try to escape, how likely do you think he’d be to succeed?”

“...I don’t like this.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Hermann said, and this time he couldn’t quite keep the ice out of his voice.  He repeated, “Open the door.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure it was the best of ideas either, but he also knew that he couldn’t leave Newt in such a state.  Could it be a trick? Perhaps, but even if there was a chance of that, he still had to make sure he was alright. It wasn’t up for debate.

The guard finally relented, and Hermann allowed himself a small sigh of relief before stepping inside.

“Just so you know, I’m locking this door behind you.  I’m not taking any chances.”

“I understand.”

He made his way across the room -- cautiously, of course, because he wasn’t a fool.  He knew that even if the injury was real, there was still a chance this was some kind of ploy to catch him off-guard.

“Newton?”

He shrank in on himself, curling up tighter on the bed.  He was trembling rather hard and Hermann found his concern overriding his caution as he sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  He flinched away, and Hermann withdrew his hand, albeit reluctantly.

Newt sat up, slowly, and as he turned around, Hermann could see that he was cradling one of his hands to his chest.  It was bleeding slightly, but not nearly as bad as the smear on the door had led Hermann to fear. Even so, the skin along his knuckles was badly split and the whole hand looked like it was already beginning to bruise.

“Is it broken?”

He shook his head.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Did--”

“No-- no, that was me.  I think. The hand, I mean, not-- the rest of it.”  Newt looked up at him, blinking, like he had just realized the incongruity of the situation.  “Hermann, what are you doing in here?”

“I was concerned.  I--”

“You should go.”

He didn’t want to.  

"What happened?"

"They wouldn't shut up. I tried to-- take control, you know? Couldn't really do a whole lot, but they didn't seem to like this much." He wiggled his hand, wincing when the gesture pulled at something.  
  
"You can't injure yourself like this every time--"   
  
"I can.  I did.” He laughed bitterly.  “One of the few things I _can_ do."   
  
"Newton--"   
  
"It was bragging, Hermann.   About all the damage it caused, all the-- the people it killed.  How it made me do it."   
  
"Listen to me.   _You_ didn't do those things."   
  
Newt said nothing.   
  
Hermann didn't spare much thought to what he was doing before he did it. He was already here. If the thing inside Newton's mind wanted to hurt him, it would, and all Hermann wanted at that particular moment was to hold him, so he did.   
  
Newt stiffened for a moment before clinging to him.  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice muffled by Hermann’s sweater.

“Like hell I shouldn’t be.”

“I’m really losing it, Hermann.  I’m-- I’m not safe to be around. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be me.  I’m not even sure if I’m me _now_.  Everything’s just-- it’s all screwed up--”

“It’s going to be alright.”  Newt laughed wetly. “It _will_ be alright, Newton.”

He fell silent again.  Hermann would have worried he’d gone into another one of his peculiar fugue states if not for the fact that he was still crying, softer now but unmistakably, shoulders shaking quietly shaking.

Hermann could feel the guard watching them impatiently from the other side of the door and shot the man a withering glare until he slowly backed away and out of view.  For all Newt’s protests, he was holding onto Hermann tightly, fingers tangled in his sweater, head on his chest and Hermann had no intention of letting go any time soon.

~

_“Will you marry me?”_

_Newt stared at him.  And continued to stare at him.  Minutes stretched on and he said nothing at all, and then he said, “Oh my God.”  Then he said nothing else for several more minutes._

_“Is that--”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“...’Seriously?’”_

_“I just--”_

_“Newton,” Hermann said, slowly, calmly, trying_ very hard _to remain calm when he felt fit to burst.  “Do you want to be my husband?”_

_“Yes!  I’m saying yes!  Obviously, yes! I will!  Yeah! Dude, I’m-- going to marry you so hard.  Oh my God. Come here.”_

_Newt grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him into a very enthusiastic kiss._

_It wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined the proposal going any of the times he had rehearsed it, but when had any part of their relationship played out exactly how he’d imagined?  As he slipped the ring on Newton’s finger, as he kissed him excitedly, Hermann thought the reality was better than any of the scenarios he’d imagined._

~

“I want to let him out.”   

Hermann was fairly certain every head in the room snapped in his direction.  

Nate exchanged a look with Jake before saying, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”  
  
He had known when he’d walked into the room that morning that he was going to be in for a battle.  He was prepared to stand his ground on this. He had an entire list ingrained in his mind of sensible arguments against any possible point they might raise against him.  He was not leaving this room until he’d convinced them.

"Being trapped in there day after day is doing his mental health no favors.  I'm concerned that-- I think it may be making it harder for him to resist them.  He needs fresh air and exercise. He needs to feel like there's some kind of hope."  
  
"He killed people, doc," Jake said sharply.  "Why should he?"   
  
A tense silence settled over the room.   
  
Jake was the one to finally break it.  "Look, I'm sorry."   
  
"It wasn't him."   
  
"I know that.  It's just... hard.  To separate it in my head like that."   
  
"I haven't forgotten what happened and neither has he.  He blames himself.”

“He said that?”

“He did.  He’d likely tell you if you spoke to him about it.”

“Every time I’ve gone in there, it’s been… that thing.  And it doesn’t seem to like me nearly as much as it likes you.”

Hermann scoffed.  “I wouldn’t say it likes me.”

“It talks to you,” Nate countered.  “It has actual conversations with you.  You’ve got _some_ kind of rapport with it.”

“It toys with me.  Tries to, at any rate.”

“It’s still more than anyone else has been able to get out of it.  He-- they-- it, whatever, threatened to disembowel one of the guards a few days ago. Other times he just paces around in there ranting to himself.  Half of it doesn’t even make sense.”

He’d never given it much thought.  Was the thing occupying Newt really that much friendlier -- for lack of a better word -- with him than anyone else?  And if so, what did that signify, if anything, other than the fact that he amused it enough for it to bother playing at being a person?

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jake said.  “Stay cool, talk to it, when it’s-- you know.  It can’t be easy.”

“...It isn't.”

Nate sighed.  “If you really think it’s a good idea, I’ll try to see what I can do -- about getting him out of the cell once in awhile.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“But there’ll be restrictions.  Limits on where he can go, what he can do.”

“Of course,” Hermann nodded, trying to maintain his composure when his heart was soaring at this victory, however small.  “That’s completely understandable.”

~

_"I--" Newt's voice cracked. "I can't do this."_   
  
_"Can't do what?" Hermann asked, even though he had a horrible feeling he already knew the answer._   
  
_"Any of it.  I can't marry you."_   
  
_"I-- I see."_   
_  
_ _He didn't, actually.  Things had been going so well or, at least, he'd thought they had.  They’d just looked at wedding cakes the other day and Hermann had spent an hour arguing that, no, a kaiju decoration on top of it was_ not _appropriate in any shape or form.  Newt had argued at great length that it was the ultimate fuck you to the invasion attempt: that they had saved the world, together, and would tackle any other threat together -- that it was a perfect symbol of their upcoming union.  Hermann had still said no. Somehow he doubted that small disagreement was the source of this._

_Newt had seemed so eager to get married.  Even still just days ago. They’d been planning this for months.  The wedding was in a_ week _._   
  
_"Newton, whatever it is you're afraid of. We can work through it together."_   
_  
Newt laughed.  "I really don't think we can.”_

_“What’s--”_

_“Look, I'm-- I'm sorry, it's not you, it's me."  Hermann frowned. “I know that's a cliche, but it's true, Hermann. You-- you didn't do anything wrong.  I just need time, okay? I need time to figure some stuff out."_   
_  
"How much time?"_

~

Newt watched him warily from the far side of the cell when he walked in.  "What's going on?"  
  
"We're going on a walk, you and I."   
  
"A--" Newt blinked at him. "A what?"   
  
"You've been in here for the better part of a month, Newton. You need some fresh air, daylight, something other than the walls of this cell."   
  
There were no windows in the cell or even what little was visible of the area just outside it. Hermann could be rather insular himself at times, but even he couldn't imagine living like this -- completely cut off from the outside world. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Newt, who had always been so energetic, so outgoing, to be held prisoner in such a place for an extended length of time.  He understood the necessity, but even so...   
  
He knew that this was the right decision. A dangerous one, perhaps, but he was willing to accept the risks.  He was as prepared for them as he could be.   
  
"You're letting me _out_ ?"   
  
“That’s overstating the situation somewhat, but… yes.  That’s the idea.”

“That… sounds like a really bad idea, Hermann.”

“You’ll be restrained.  Even if they were to take control--”

“They could still--”

“I’ll be with you,” Hermann said softly.  “The entire time.”

Newt frowned.  “Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

“I know you’re frightened, but staying in this cell, all day, every day, is not the answer.  There are security cameras everywhere. Everything will be authorized beforehand. They’ll know to keep an eye out for any… aberrant behavior.  It’s safe. As safe as it can possibly be, given the circumstances.” He added, “Besides, you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

“I’ll-- I’ll try.  Yeah.”

Hermann took one of Newt’s hands, and he was certain it was Newt who squeezed back.  

~

_Weeks turned into months turned into years._

_They never talked about it -- not directly -- but Newt didn’t have to say it for Hermann to know it was over._

~

When they stepped outside, Newt squinted into the sunlight and had to actually shield his eyes from the sun with his hand for a few moments until he gained his bearings, which just went to show just how long overdue this excursion was.  

“We can head back whenever you’re ready.”

“And if I said I was ready, like, _right now_ \--” Hermann gave him a look.  “Okay, nevermind. Sorry.”

“I know it’s difficult, but just try to act natural.”

Newt looking around warily.  “Natural. Sure.”

He glanced down at his shackles and Hermann couldn’t help a small pang of guilt.  He wanted nothing more than for this really to be just a normal walk -- for Newt to be free.  He wished none of this was necessary, but it was simply too hard to predict when the precursors might take control again.  All they would need was a moment or two of freedom to turn the situation on its head. At least with Newton restrained, Hermann was fairly certain he could handle them if they made an appearance.

“So where are we going?”

“Wherever you like, within reason.  We can’t go into any of the jaeger bays, labs, etcetera, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, that’s… understandable.”  He let out a dejected sigh and squinted at Hermann.  “Well, might as well make the most of it, right?”

It was difficult to act as though this were a casual stroll for either of them when the reality of the situation was visible in the shackles around Newton’s wrists but, after some time, it almost did feel normal.  The way it might have if they were still working together, living together, like they had all those years ago, and had just stepped out for a bit of fresh air. Hermann had mainly been concerned about Newt’s well-being when he’d suggested these outings.  He hadn’t considered that it might be beneficial for himself, as well.

He felt better than he had in weeks.

“I’m still not sure how great of an idea this is,” Newt said, “but… it _is_ pretty nice to be out of that cell.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I think I might’ve been starting to get a little cabin fever, you know?  There’s not a whole lot to do in there but think, and think, and think some more about… you know, everything.  I’m sorry about the other day, I--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hermann cut in.  “Given everything you’ve been through, it’s understandable.”

“Yeah, I guess.  Maybe.” Newt reached up to nervously run a hand through his hair and nearly knocked himself in the face with the cuffs.  He laughed awkwardly. “Anyway. The whole fresh air and sunlight thing: not totally awful concepts.”

“I’d like to take you out again.  Sometime soon, if you’d be up for it.”

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined our next date going,” Newt said before seeming to catch himself.  Before Hermann could say anything -- before he could even think of what to say -- Newt was already talking again, “but, uh, yeah.  I’d like that.”

Hermann smiled.

~

_"Newton? Are you there?"_   
  
_It was a rhetorical question.  He knew he was there. He could hear him breathing on the other end of the line.   Something about it felt wrong. There was a hitch in it that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly why._   
  
_"Hey," Newt said, finally, as if it were all completely normal save for the shaking in his voice, "how's it going?"_   
  
_"It's two am.  I was sleeping."_   
  
_"Oh.  Sorry."_   
  
_Hermann ran a hand over his face.  "Newton, are you alright?"_   
  
_"Y-yeah. I just-- wanted to, you know, just-- say hi."_   
  
_"At two am."_   
  
_"Sorry, dude.”  He laughed. “Timezones, right?"_   
  
_"Newt--"_   
_  
"I'm sorry, Hermann," Newt blurted, and Hermann had a feeling he wasn't apologizing for the phone call anymore.  "I screwed up. Really, really bad, I know, I-- I'm-- I guess I just wasn't cut out for marriage, huh?"_

_It stung, to hear him finally actually say it._

~

It became a routine.  A couple times a week they would go for a walk together.  Slowly, Newton’s disposition began to improve. It wasn’t a perfect situation, obviously.  The precursors continued to rear their heads periodically, Hermann had yet to discover a reliable means to get rid of them, and Newt still had days where he seemed more absent than not, depressed and dejected, but still -- it was a step in the right direction.  As long as Newt was relatively safe, in both body and mind, that gave Hermann hope that they’d find a way out of this somewhere down the road.

This time, they’d walked a bit longer than farther than usual.  By the time they realized they’d lost track of the time, the sun was already low on the horizon.  If they started making their way back now, he still had a chance of getting Newton back to his cell before nightfall, but only just.  It was cutting things close, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor rule to break. Maybe it was just the lingering pieces of Newt the drift had left behind in his mind a decade past, but a rebellious part of Hermann couldn’t help but think that it was worth it.

“Man,” Newt whistled at the sight of the sun casting its light over the water.  “What a view.”

“It is rather breathtaking.”

“You take it for granted.  I mean... not you, specifically, but people.”

“I suppose they do.”

He tried not to.  After the war, he’d tried to appreciate every moment they’d all fought so hard for -- that some of them had died for.  The years afterward hadn’t gone exactly as he’d imagined they would, but he’d like to think he’d made the most of them -- learned to better appreciate not only his work but his life outside of it.  It was strange to think about now, standing next to Newt like this. So much time had gone by but, in that moment, it felt like hardly any at all.

“Why did you keep the ring?”  He hadn’t really intended to ask, at least not at that particular moment.  It just sort of… slipped out.

“What was I gonna do, Hermann, throw it away?”

He glanced at Newt.  “You know what I mean.  You’re… wearing it. Most people wouldn’t, after breaking off an engagement.”

Newt’s voice went soft, his expression unreadable.  “Guess not.”

Despite himself, Hermann found himself thinking about his ring.  He kept it in his sock drawer. He’d worn it for a time -- a long time, truth be told -- before he’d finally put it away.  He’d convinced himself that if he kept it out of sight, perhaps one day it’d hurt a bit less. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of getting rid of it entirely.

It was a dangerous line of discussion, but he’d already come this far.  “Do you still--”

“Yeah, he does.”

Hermann’s breath caught.

Newt gave him a crooked grin.  “Boo.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games,” Hermann said tightly.  “Let’s head back.”

“What, you’re not going to tase me?”

Hermann had never told Newt about the taser he’d began carrying around in case of, well, situations such as these.  It was a bit unnerving to realize this thing pretending to be Newt must have seen or noticed it somehow despite the fact that he’d kept it hidden.  He tried not to let his surprise show, however. Any visible weakness was sure to be exploited.

“I don’t see any particular need to,” he replied.  “You’re not much of a threat, restrained as you are.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.  I’m pretty resourceful.  I mean, came _pretty_ close to eliminating the entire human race, so I mean...”

“Nobody likes a braggart.”

“Except for you, apparently.  Is that your type, Hermann?  Is that why you’ve spent the past decade alone?  Nobody else measured up to the Newt Geiszler Gold Standard?”  He held up his hands at the look on Hermann’s face, chain rattling.  “Hey, no offense intended.  We’re just having a friendly chat, right?”

“You’re assuming I’ve been alone the entire time.”

Not-Newt laughed.  “Touché.”

It was trying to provoke him and it was working.  He was disappointed in himself for rising to the bait.  He had thought he was getting better at telling the difference between the two of them, and yet he hadn’t noticed a change until it had deigned to let him know, and that had caught him badly off-guard.

He couldn’t be sure how much of these conversations Newton -- the real Newt -- was privy to and it felt… obscene, wrong, talking to this _thing_ about their relationship as though Newt weren’t even there at all.

“I’m taking you back to your cell.”

“Come on, don’t be mad--”

“The only mad thing,” Hermann retorted, “would be to continue this discussion with _you_.”

“That hurts, Hermann, but fine.  Have it your way.”

It was beginning to get dark in earnest, now, and they were making their way past a small shed -- behind it, which Hermann later realized had been a mistake -- when everything went to hell.  It had been so subtle, Hermann hadn’t noticed when Newt had started to lag just a bit behind. He should have forced him to walk ahead. Better yet, he _should_ have tased him, the moment he realized it was no longer Newt he was speaking to.  

There was no real hint, no warning, there was just the sudden and very real presence of a chain wrapped around his throat.

He froze.

_Stupid_ , he thought.

Out loud, he said, “You won’t kill me.”

“Oh no?  Still think your ex has enough fight in him to stop me?”

“Whether he does or doesn’t is irrelevant.  If you kill me, how far do you think you’ll get before you’re found?  You’d not only have to free yourself of your restraints, you’d also have to find a way out of here, which would mean either by helicopter or by jaeger and I don’t think one of the most notorious faces in the Shatterdome is going to have much luck sneaking aboard or commandeering either of those things undetected, do you?  And, more than likely, they’ll use lethal force and Newton is of no use to you if he’s dead.”

“So, so smart, Hermann.  You think you’ve got me all figured out.  There’s a little flaw in your logic, though.  You wanna know what it is?” It didn’t give him time to respond.  “He’s no good to me when he’s stuck _here_ , either,” it hissed.  “And maybe -- just maybe -- I’m a _little_ pissed about things not working out quite the way I wanted them to.  Maybe I’m just ready to call it a day.”

“If that’s the case, why not just let him go?”

“Oh, Hermann,” it chuckled.  “He’s _ours_.  It’s the principle of the thing, you know?”

“You’re really just… doing this out of spite?”

“Pretty much,” Newt whispered in his ear before tightening his grip.

Hermann’s oxygen supply very abruptly went from scarce to non-existent and his vision began to grey.  The harder he struggled, the tighter it got, like trying to wrestle his way out of quicksand. When he fumbled in an attempt to hit him with his cane, not-Newt kicked it out of his hands with ease.

It couldn’t end this way.  He _refused_ to allow it to end this way, but… his limbs felt so heavy--

Suddenly, he was flung to the ground  It was so abrupt, he thought for a moment the sudden _presence_ of oxygen might make him pass out.  He pushed himself to his knees shakily, coughing and dragging in lungfuls of air.

“It was a joke.  I’m joking. You guys-- you-- take things _way_ too--  Hermann--  God. Shit.   _Fuck_.”

Once Hermann felt like his grasp on consciousness was stable enough he glanced up at Newt.  Newt -- and it _was_ Newt staring down at him in horror -- took a stumbling step backward.  Hermann crawled towards him, reached out to him, and Newt recoiled.

“Don’t-- just… don’t.  I need to get back in my cell.  Right _now_.”

“Newt--”

He was already moving.  Not outright bolting away, thank God, but walking at a brisk pace that Hermann struggled to catch up with once he’d grabbed his cane and scrambled back to his feet.

“You can’t be wandering around here unsupervised!  Newton! Will you stop and _listen_ to me?  For God’s sake, someone’s liable to shoot you.”

“You know what?  Fine! Let them!”  Newt waved his arms in the air.  “Woo! Hey, guys! Better watch out, I’m on the fucking loose out here!”

“This isn’t a game,” Hermann hissed.

“Oh, believe me, I know it isn’t.  The peanut gallery’s made that _perfectly_ clear.”

“They _will_ kill you, if you draw this sort of attention to yourself!”

Newt spun around.  “I don’t care! I’m tired, Hermann, and I.  Don’t. Care.”

“I do!”

That stopped him in his tracks.  

“I do,” Hermann said, again.  “I care, Newton. And I know that you--”

“I can’t,” Newt said, and he sounded so lost, so defeated, it made his heart ache.  “I can’t do this.”

Hermann approached him.  A dangerous proposition, he supposed, considered he’d nearly been strangled just a moment before, but he refused to live in constant fear of what _could_ happen.  Avoiding contact with Newt altogether felt too much like admitting he was already lost.  

He pulled him into a hug.

“You can.”

“I _can’t_.”

“You _can_.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Newt whispered.  “I missed that. A lot, actually.”

“We’ll fix this.”

“What if it’s not something that _can_ be fixed?  What if-- maybe this is just it.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Sometimes there’s no winning, you know?  Sometimes things just-- they go wrong, really, really wrong, and that’s just… how it goes.”

“I will find a way to help you,” Hermann said.  “And if one doesn’t exist, I’ll create one. And perhaps you’re right.  Perhaps it’s all futile. Perhaps there will come a time when we have to accept-- but not _now_.  I am not ready to give up.  I am not ready to lose you, and will not be for the foreseeable future.  Do you understand me?”

Newt pressed his forehead against his.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Precursor!Newt sure is a strangle-happy little shit, huh? 
> 
> Honestly putting restraints on Newt with any amount of chain or grabby-strangly-anything was probably not a smart move on their part, but here we are. I'm sure they'll be more careful in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am! With another longer than intended chapter. I just continue to have a lot of Feelings.
> 
> Also fair warning, things get a little Intense in this one.

Newt had refused to leave his cell since the incident during their last trip outside.  Hermann had worried, after what happened, that he'd refuse to see him at all anymore, but he didn't.  It had clearly taken a toll on him, however -- he had seemed to be improving before, but now... He seemed to appreciate Hermann's visits, at least, and he didn’t seem quite as morose as he had once been, but Hermann could tell what had happened was weighing on him.  That the entire situation was continuing to wear him down at an unsustainable pace.   
  
Hermann knew that whatever was going to be done to resolve this had to be done sooner rather than later, for Newton’s sake.  He knew there was a solution, somewhere -- that he just needed to find it -- and he also knew that whatever other measures he took to try to make Newton’s situation more comfortable or less stressful were ultimately just temporary.  He was suffering and his resolve was wavering. It was already something of a miracle that he’d managed to hold out through an entire decade.

It pained Hermann to think about, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted.  Not now.

The work was exhausting and relentless.  Every time he felt like he might be coming one step closer to finding a feasible solution, he would run into another wall.  He examined the kaiju brain Newt had apparently been keeping in his apartment until even the simple act of looking at the damn thing was unbearable.  He even briefly considered drifting with Newt before realizing the dangers of such an act outweighed any possible benefits. The precursors had nearly succeeded through Newt.  He shuddered to think what they might be capable of if they had them  _ both _ at their disposal.

Still, the drift technology had been what had opened that particular door to start with.  It was possible it was the key to closing it again. It was a thin, dangling strand of hope, but it was hope nonetheless.

~

Hermann had gone through some stressful events in his lifetime, but unbelievably enough, he found himself more nervous now than he’d ever been in his life, which was quite the accomplishment.  He had a plan. He had a system that he had constructed -- partially based on drift technology, partially based on his own design, and aided in part by a few other professionals he’d been corresponding since this all began.  He’d ran simulation after simulation. He was, at this point, as certain as he was ever going to be that this was the right path to take, short of actually trying it on Newton himself. All he needed now were the resources and authorization to actually set it into motion and to get either of those things he was going to have to make one hell of a compelling argument.

He’d brought graphs, he’d brought projections, he’d brought all the relevant data he could think of.  He was as ready as he would ever be and Newton’s fate hinged on whether it would be enough.

He presented his plan as clearly and concisely as he possibly could.  He tried, hard as it was to, not to think about his personal stake in all this -- to treat it like any of the many other presentations or proposals he had given through his career.  He wasn’t sure that he was entirely successful.

When he was finally done, Nate started, “Dr. Gottlieb, I have to ask...   How sure are you that you've even been talking to Newt -- the real Newt?"   
  
"Reasonably."   
  
"Reasonably?"   
  
"With all the due respect, Ranger Lambert, I've known Newton Geiszler for over twenty years.  I worked with him for ten. I've-- lived with him. I'm certain."   
  
"But not completely certain."  Hermann started. "Look, I understand.  I know you care about him, but in the state he’s in, he's dangerous, and a lot of what you’re telling us relies on the assumption that there's something left of him to save.  I just want to know if there's any actual proof to support that before I ask the PPDC to pour this many resources into doing this.”   
  
"I've run scans," Hermann said, picking up his tablet.  "Neural ones, as well as full-body ones. I've compared them to ones the PPDC had on file.  And,” he tapped a few buttons and projected the data onto the nearby holographic display, “this is what I found.”

They all fell silent, staring at the images.

“Doc,” Jake chimed in, sounding vaguely embarrassed, “you’re going to have to explain what we’re looking at.”

Hermann cleared his throat and pointed.  “The image on the right is Newt’s brain a little over ten years ago, before he attempted to drift with the kaiju.  The one on the left is from several days ago.”

“Well, they’re different,” Nate said, brow furrowing.  “But what exactly does that tell us?”

“Time could account for a certain degree of variation, but not to this extent,” Hermann explained.  “I’m not the expert on brain chemistry Newton is, but… as far as I can tell, it’s almost as if the precursors have been, for lack of a better word, remapping his brain.  The way his mind works now is fundamentally different than how it did ten years ago. Portions of his brain are showing signs of being... repurposed -- mainly the areas related to bodily functions, presumably to facilitate the connection.  I’d imagine it’s why they can actually physically control his body as opposed to simply planting suggestions in his mind, which-- if they had, he almost certainly would have been able to better resist them. It’s even possible they attempted less direct methods first, before… escalating things.  Unlike a regular drift, this is less a communion of minds and more of an invasion. If it continues, there may very well be nothing left of Newton as we know him by the time they’re through.”

“And is there something here that makes you think that hasn’t already happened?”

“Yes!  Yes, there is.  While much of the scan is different from the previous one, there  _ are _ key areas that are still recognizably similar, that have been relatively untouched.  Also, I don’t believe they’d be able to draw on his memories and experiences if they completely eradicated his mind, which is likely why they didn’t completely overwhelm his consciousness years ago.  He would be of no use to them anymore if they did.”

Jake gave him a grave look.  “But now he’s no good to them, anyway.”

“...Yes,” Hermann frowned.  “There is that.”

“I don’t get it,” Nate said.  “Couldn’t they just… leave?”

“I considered that, and they’ve insinuated that they were staying out of some twisted sense of enjoyment, but… I think it’s also possible that they  _ can’t _ .”

“What makes you say that?”

“They’ve been a part of his mind, his consciousness, intimately, for ten years.  In order to exert the amount of control that they’re capable of they had to, for lack of a better word, take root.  I’m not sure they could voluntarily relinquish control of him now, even if they wanted to. I think he may be as intrinsically connected to the hivemind as any other organism that’s a part of it.”

It wasn’t something that had occurred to him at the time, but it had later, especially after he’d taken a look at the scans.   He couldn’t even begin to guess at whether that would be anything more than an inconvenience for a species such as them, but it cast their recent erratic behavior -- and their carelessness with Newt's life and well-being -- in a different light.  It was only a theory at this point, but a troubling one.

Either way, he felt as though they were running out of time.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the displays thoughtfully.  “What about the other scans you were talking about, the full-body ones?”

“I’m not sure how relevant they are to the matter at hand,” Hermann replied.  “Why?”

“Just hoping they haven’t infected him with kaiju DNA or something like that.”

Hermann gave him a look before sighing and bringing up the body scans.  “It’s all relatively normal. No more of a disparity than you’d expect from a ten-year span.  Certainly no foreign DNA, kaiju or otherwise. He’s still entirely human.”

“Except for the brain rewired by an alien hivemind thing,” Jake said.

“Yes, except for that.”

“If all of this is true--”

“It is.”

“--what’s going to happen to him when you use this thing?” Nate asked.  “If they’re dug in that deep…”

Hermann swallowed past the tightness in his throat.  “There will be damage. There’s no way of knowing for certain how extensive until it’s done.  The brain is a resilient organ, however, and if we’re lucky, the worst of the damage will heal over time.  Since the areas they’ve infested are largely related to body functions, Newton’s memories -- the essence of who he is -- should remain relatively intact.”

“I feel a ‘but’ here.”

“But,” Hermann sighed, “many of the affected regions are tied to vital body functions.  There’s a… greater than average chance that-- that the initial damage caused by the procedure may be too severe for him to withstand.”

“He’d die.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ran any of this by him yet?”

“No, not yet,” Hermann said softly.  “I wanted to be sure I’d have the go-ahead to use it before I got his hopes up.”

“I’m on board,” Nate said, even though he looked like he still had reservations.  “If this is how you want to do this…”

“It is.”

“Then I’m with you.”

Jake nodded.  “Me too. What do you need to get started?”

~

“Newton?”

Newt lifted his head from the book he’d been reading and glanced in Hermann’s direction.  His face brightened. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were coming over today.” 

“If it’s a bad time--”

“Not sure I know what a  _ good _ time feels like anymore, Hermann, but-- it’s never a bad time.”

Despite everything, that made him smile.  “I have some… news that might interest you.  It’s about your situation.”

“Good or bad?”

“Mixed, but-- I do hope good, overall.”

Newt closed his book, got up, and walked towards the door.  His expression was wary, and Hermann couldn’t blame him. “Okay, so what is it?  Should I have stayed sitting down for this?”

Hermann was trying -- and perhaps failing, judging by the growing look of concern on Newton’s face -- to maintain his composure.  “I’d like to come in to discuss it if I could.”

“That serious, huh?”

“Yes, it’s that serious.”

“If it’s okay with my bouncer over there,” Hermann heard the guard snort behind him, “then yeah, okay.  If that’s what you want. Just-- be careful, you know?”

“I will.”

The guard waited until Newt backed all the way against the opposite wall before unlocking the door and letting Hermann slip inside.  He walked over to Newt’s bed and Newt followed. They both sat. 

“I have a way to drive the precursors from your mind.”

“You--  _ what _ ?”

“I’ve been working on the system for awhile,” Hermann continued, “and it’s… not a perfect solution.  There are far more unknown variables than I’d like, but it’s the best I’ve been able to come up with.  I think it may be your best chance. It’s--”

“Don’t get into the technical bits,” Newton said, still looking a bit stunned.  “I-- I don’t want them hearing about anything they shouldn’t. But-- this thing… you really think it’ll work?”

“Yes,” Hermann replied.  “It  _ will _ excise them from your mind.”

Newt laughed incredulously.  “I can’t believe it. I mean, if anyone could come up with something it would be _ you _ , yeah, but-- I just-- I can’t believe it’d be that easy.”

Hermann took a breath.  “There are some… concerns.”

“Yeah.”  Newt’s smile faded.  “I mean, yeah. Of course, there would be, so... it might not work.  It might not actually get them out of my head.”

“Oh, it’ll work.  One way or another.”

Newt stared at him for a few seconds, and Hermann could see him piecing it together in his mind.  “Oh.”

“It’s impossible to know for certain how your mind will react or how much damage will be done during the procedure.  For that matter, there’s no telling how  _ they _ might react to the procedure.  God only knows what they may be capable of when backed into a corner.”

“And if they’re too tangled up in my brain processes, ripping them out of there might just… kill me.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”  Newt rubbed his face.  “What kind of odds are we talking about here?”

“Based on the latest scan -- and we’ll have to take another one before the procedure -- and the simulations I’ve run…”  His voice completely abandoned him. He’d used to be much better at compartmentalizing than this. The past few weeks had been… taxing.  

“Wow, that bad, huh?”

Hermann nodded and rose from the bed.  Suddenly, he couldn’t bring himself to look Newton in the eye.

Newt exhaled audibly.  “Come on, dude, just lay it on me.  I can take it.”

Perhaps he could, but Hermann wasn’t sure that  _ he _ could.  “I tried to narrow it down somewhat, but-- the chances of survival are placed somewhere between twenty and twenty-five percent.”

The silence felt like it stretched on forever.

“Well,” Newt finally said, “that’s-- hey, it could be worse.”

Hermann spun around.  “How?”

“It’s better than ten percent.”  Newt’s laugh had a hysterical edge to it and his smile didn’t quite manage to be reassuring.  “It’s better than nineteen percent. It’s better than nothing, Hermann.  It’s okay.”

“It’s--”

“Look, we have to.  You know we have to do it.  The odds don’t really matter.”

“You have a choice.  I wouldn’t force you-- or let anyone else force you-- to do this, Newton.”

“And so the alternative is what?  Living like this forever? With that thing just-- kicking around in my head for the rest of my life, trying to figure out new and horrible ways to use me to  _ kill everyone _ ?  No.  I’m-- I’m doing it.  I’ll do it.”

“If we wait,” Hermann said, “I might be able to improve on the process.”

“If we wait,” Newt replied, “it’ll give them more time to sink their teeth in and my odds will probably get a whole lot worse.  You know I’m right.”

Hermann fell silent.

“Maybe you should just kill me.”

His head jerked in Newton’s direction, heart pounding.  “What?”

“There’s something kind of romantic about that, right?” Newt continued.  “I mean, I don’t think the guard would mind looking the other way for a few minutes.  You could smother me with the pillow. You could strangle me, which--” Newt wiggled his eyebrows, “--is always fun.”

Hermann scowled.  “I’m not amused.”

Newt stretched out on the bed.  “You’re always so worried about my feelings, so if it’s pain you’re worried about, you could always poison me.  There are plenty of painless--”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

“I’m just trying to give you options, buddy.  It’d be a lot less of a hassle than what you plan on doing.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  For me to just give up.”

“What I’d like,” Not-Newt said, “is to get out of here, which would be a whole lot harder to do if I-- sorry--  _ he _ is dead.”

“That didn’t seem to concern you a few weeks ago.”

“I told you, I was just goofing around with you.  Why would I want  _ him _ dead, or  _ you _ dead, when the two of you are so entertaining?  Newt, on the other hand -- if you want his opinion -- is very pro-death.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He hates seeing you suffer like this, Hermann.  He hates knowing that it’s his fault. He doesn’t really want to be saved.  He just wants it all to be over.” It sighed and, with a frown, gestured at Newt’s chest region.  “You know, this is kind of a bit much for me. I don’t like this feeling.”

“My heart bleeds for you, truly.”

“He loves you  _ so _ much,” it said.  “It’s kind of nauseating.  But you knew that already, right?  Deep down, you knew he still cared.  And this is the part that just  _ tickles _ me, Hermann: even knowing that, you’re still seriously willing to go through with this thing.  Knowing that he’ll probably die. That’s pretty cold. I’m actually impressed.” He rolled over on the bed and leaned in towards him.  Hermann instinctively pulled back, put distance between them, even though it wouldn’t really do a whole lot of good if he were to decide to attack.  “You know, there’s a third option: you could join us.”

“Why on earth would I do that?  More to the point, why would you even offer?”

“Me and Newt have been together for so long, now.  To be honest with you, I’m not totally sure where he ends and I begin, anymore.  Like, does  _ he _ love you or do  _ we _ love you?”

“I find it laughable that, after all of this, you’d expect me to believe that you’re even capable of experiencing love.”

“Okay, maybe not love-- not really-- but I have a certain admiration.  Respect. I’d appreciate you way more than any of these idiots ever will.”  He gave Hermann a smile that might’ve had a myriad of effects on him had it actually been Newt giving it to him, but he could see through it.  He could spot the little details that gave the act away, the things the hivemind couldn’t quite mimic with complete accuracy. __ “Aren’t you even a little bit curious what it would be like?  You could have him back. We’d give you that. Maybe not, like,  _ physically _ because we would need to use both your bodies.  But in spirit? In mind? You’d get to be together.  Isn’t that what you want? You still want me, right? You still love me?” 

Hermann closed his eyes.  “Stop.”

“You’re making this way harder on yourself than it has to be, Hermann.  It could be so easy.”

“You’re worried that it’s going to work.”

“ _ You _ hope it’s going to work because all of this is kinda your fault to begin with, seeing as how if you’d gone after him, back then, we’d probably have had a way harder time getting under his skin.  You have no idea how long he fought,  _ hard _ , and you motivated a lot of that -- the thought of being able to be with you again one day, the idea that maybe you’d come after him -- but you know… eventually, he realized you weren’t coming to his rescue.  Do you know how  _ miserable _ it is to realize how alone you are?”  He chuckled. “Well, I guess you do.”

“My answer to your offer,” Hermann said tightly, “is no.”  

“Your loss.”  

“This  _ will _ work.”  It had to.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Yes,” Hermann said stiffly as he made his way to the door, “we will.”  

The guard shot Newt a warning glare before opening the door and Hermann paused there, for a moment, before glancing over his shoulder.  

"Oh, and by the way..."  Not-Newt looked at him, quirking an eyebrow, and Hermann didn't flinch from that cold, cruel gaze.  "He  _ isn't _ yours."

~

Hermann worked on perfecting the system with renewed vigor.  Now that Newton was on-board with the plan, there was no reason for them to waste any more time while that  _ thing _ continued its farce.  He was no neuroscientist -- all of this was based largely on his engineering knowledge, things that had passed from Newt to him during their drift, and anything else he’d managed to absorb on the topic in the past decade or so.  It was, he hated to admit, about as good as it was going to get. He couldn’t help but think that Newton would have been able to offer some insights that may have helped things along, but he couldn’t trust that any help from his end wouldn’t have come along with a veiled attempt at sabotage and that was something they couldn’t afford.

Another week went by, and by the simulation’s measure, the odds of success hadn’t increased to any significant degree since the last time he’d tested it.

He knew Newt was right.  He knew they had no choice but to do it and simply hope for the best.  It was just hard to accept. At least Newt had some chance, however slim, he supposed -- and if it didn’t work, Hermann would just have to live with that, somehow.

~

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating.  Everyone, the guards, Jake and Nate, and even Newt himself were grave-faced and somber.  It felt too much like everyone had already decided how they thought this was going to end, and Hermann hated that feeling.  He itched to break the silence.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

Newt was strapped into a chair, much like the one they’d first restrained him in when they’d captured him.  Hermann didn’t like it, but there was no way of knowing what the precursors might do in a final act of desperation.  They’d come too far for Hermann to risk them sabotaging this at the last moment.

“Uh, yeah?  How could I not be?  Are  _ you _ nervous?”  Hermann gave him a tight smile.  “Right? Silly question, Hermann.”

“I’ll be here, every moment,” he said softly.  “I won’t leave your side.”

Part of that was to oversee the procedure which he had, after all, created, but if he’d asked, someone else would have done it.  If he hadn’t wanted to be here for this, he doubted anyone would have forced him to be the one to do it, but he knew it had to be him.  This was his plan, his system, the man that he loved. However this turned out, he had to be there for it -- and for Newt.

“I-- thanks.”  Newt was gazing up at him in such a way that was almost painful to look at, but impossible to look away from.  “Okay, so-- okay. Look, I’m hoping for the best, I really am, but uh. Just in case this goes sideways, I just-- I want you to know…  See, this is why I  _ record _ things.  I’m really not good at doing this face to--”

Hermann leaned in and kissed him.  Newt leaned forward as much as he was able with the restraints holding him into the chair.  The hivemind could emulate Newt so well in so many ways, but this -- Hermann knew this was Newt.  It couldn’t have been anybody else.

When they separated, Newt licked his lips.  “That’s-- one way to do it,” he said softly.  “Not a bad way to go.”

Hermann’s heart clenched.  “What happened to hoping for the best?”

“I am, but come on Hermann, we’re about to fry my brain-- well, part of my brain.  A really big part. We know the odds, and there’s about fifty ways this can go bad.  So, if this is really it… it was enough.”

“It wasn’t, though.  Not nearly.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.  I was trying to be, like, profound and romantic, but fine, you’re right.  It wasn’t. Look, if I  _ don’t _ die, I’ll make it up to you.  I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

He winked at him, and Hermann knew if he didn’t press the damn button now, he wasn’t going to be able to. 

Newt took a deep breath.  “Okay, do it. I’m ready.”

Hermann pressed the button -- a series of buttons, strictly speaking.  The effects weren’t immediately apparent, and Newton looked almost relieved, for a moment, when nothing happened before the apparatus attached to his head sparked to life.  To his credit, he didn’t scream. His eyes clenched shut and Hermann had to pull his hands away from the console just to eliminate the irrational urge to shut the machine off.  Newton was gripping the arms of the chair so hard Hermann could hear them creak. 

“I can handle a little pain,” Newt had said the day before, and Hermann had gotten the sense he was trying to reassure himself just as much as he was Hermann.  “Most of my body’s covered in tattoos and a couple of those hurt like a son of a bitch.  I've drifted with a kaiju brain a... couple times.  How much worse could this be?”

The answer, apparently, was very.

“Hermann,” Newt choked.  “It’s not-- something’s wrong-- it’s not working-- it’s--”  He finally screamed and it was a horrible, heart-wrenching sound.  Nothing in it sounded inhuman, it was just him -- just Newton screaming and thrashing against his restraints.  “Hermann, turn it off! Turn it off, oh God, please-- please turn it off!” 

“Are you sure about this?” Jake asked.

“That’s not him,” Hermann said, trying his best to stay composed.  “It’s them.”

He’d known before he’d turned the machine on that he had to be prepared for this eventuality.  The hivemind had had no qualms about using his affections for Newt against him before. Of course, it would say or do anything to try to make him stop, and for that precise reason, he knew that he couldn’t.  Newton had known the process would be painful. He’d known there was a greater chance than not that it would kill him. He had agreed to it anyway, and the worst thing Hermann could do now was stop before it was over, because then it would have all been for nothing.

“Hermann, please-- please don’t-- please-- I can’t--” Newt sobbed.

He thrashed -- or convulsed, it was difficult to tell what movement was involuntary and what was a desperate attempt to break free -- and Hermann heard something, a wrist maybe, crack.  He closed his eyes. 

He could do this.   _ They _ could do this, the both of them.  It would just be a little while longer.

Of course, even that short span of time felt like an eternity when someone he loved was suffering.  He had no way of knowing how much pain Newt was truly in, but he wanted to believe that if the hivemind was on the surface so intently trying to convince him to stop, then perhaps Newt was buried deep enough down that the pain couldn’t reach him.  That if this did turn out to be the end, that he wasn’t actually suffering as badly as it seemed.

It was a nice thought, at least.

Newton’s breathing was ragged, but the sudden lucidity in his voice made Hermann open his eyes and look up.  The hivemind glared at him from behind Newt’s face.  “You think this’ll stop us?” 

Then, just as suddenly, Newt pitched forward and went limp, head lolling against his chest, blood dripping from his face.

Hermann glanced down at the screen just long enough to confirm that the process was, in fact, complete.  It was. Newton’s vitals were erratic, but they were  _ there _ .  He ran to Newt’s side and began hurriedly loosening the restraints.

“Newton?  Newt?”

Nate shifted uneasily in the corner of the room.  “Doc, are you sure that’s--”

“It’s finished, I assure you,” Hermann replied.  “They’re gone.” And all he cared about, at that particular moment, was finding out whether they had taken Newt with them.

Without the restraints holding him upright in the chair, Newt slumped forward against him, alarmingly still.  If not for the fact that Hermann had seen the readings for himself, he might have thought he was dead. He was breathing shallowly enough that it wasn’t immediately noticeable.  

“Newt,” Hermann repeated.

He didn’t want to shake him and risk aggravating any unseen damage, but the longer Newton was unresponsive for the more anxious he became.  After what felt like an eternity, Newt groaned and began to stir. 

“Hey,” he croaked.

Hermann’s heart stuttered in his chest.  “Hello.”

Newton lifted his head and blinked at Hermann blearily.  His left eye was bleeding and he didn’t say anything else for a long while, but there was recognition in his eyes, lucidity, and that in and of itself a good sign.

“Newton,” Hermann said softly, “we’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

Newt laughed, surprisingly hard, and then winced.  “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” At Hermann’s concerned look, he added, “I’m-- I’m good.  I think-- I think I’m good. I’m never drifting with  _ anything _ ever again--”

“I’d certainly hope not.”

“Also,” he continued, “I’m going to nap for, like, a  _ year _ .  Maybe two.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

He sighed with what sounded like relief and collapsed against Hermann again, resting his face in the crook of his neck, fingers tangling themselves in Hermann's sweater, and Hermann held him close for awhile.  Newt was dripping blood all over the both of them, but Hermann didn’t mind. Someone from medical was waiting to take him down to the infirmary to assess the full extent of the damage, but Hermann wanted this moment to last just awhile longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be..............at least one more chapter. Maybe two.
> 
> Also, for the record, I'm not an expert on brains but I'm not sure there's much basis for alien mind control irl either, so I did my best there haha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I did not mean to completely drop off the AO3 grid for an entire month, but here we are. Hoping to be a bit more prompt with the next couple of chapters, though! I really want to thank everyone who's left comments so far. When I first started the fic, I had no real intention of it becoming a multi-chaptered Thing and I've been flying a bit by the seat of my pants, but I'm having a good time and I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it too. <3

Once, when he was a kid -- six or seven, maybe -- Newt slipped and fell into the lake near his uncle's house and he hadn’t known how to swim.  He probably wasn’t under for as long as it felt like at the time, but he remembered swallowing water and feeling like the water was swallowing him.  Then his dad had found him, pulled him out of the lake, and five minutes later he was back to trying to catch frogs like nothing had ever happened because what kid was ever conscious of his own mortality?  Not Newt, that was for sure.   
  
The precursors shoving their way inside his head was kind of like that, only worse -- so, so much worse.  Worse than drowning, worse than nearly frying his own brain, worse than almost getting eaten by a kaiju, worse than the worst meltdowns and breakdowns of his life leading up to that point because eventually those things  _ stopped  _ but this never did. He was drowning in his own head all day, every day, every week of every month of every year and nobody was around to save him this time.   
  
Consciousness came and went.  He started losing track of time and then just outright  _ losing _ time.  It was passing, sure, but there came a point when he didn't surface often enough or for long enough to keep reliable track of it anymore.  Any time he felt like maybe -- just maybe -- control was within reach again, just when he would start to feel like he was able to focus his thoughts again, it would all get yanked out from under him.  Sometimes he’d get tired of even trying to fight it at all and that was when he’d lose whole weeks, sometimes months. He was pretty sure he'd blacked out an entire year or two somewhere along the way and who knew if he'd ever get those back.  (He wouldn't. He knew that. He wasn't going to get any of it back. This was pretty much the end of the road and he knew it.) It wasn't like he hadn't tried, but it turned out even one of the best and brightest minds in the world could only do so much against a collective consciousness comprised of some of the nastiest interdimensional  _ assholes _ Newt could ever imagine sharing headspace with.   
  
He’d never used to believe in evil --  _ real _ evil -- but he wasn't sure what else to call it when they left him with just enough awareness to know what they were doing but not enough control to stop any of it.   
  
And then, one day, he woke up in a hospital bed in an obnoxiously white room in what his semi-solid brain slowly put together was the Shatterdome med bay and they were just… not in his head anymore.

Oh, right.  That whole thing.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he’d expected to wake up dead or, well, to not wake up at all.  He wasn’t even sure how he felt about the fact that he hadn’t. Especially when he had a skull-splitting headache, which the overly white decor definitely was  _ not _ helping with at all.  Whoever decided hospital rooms should look like that had never experienced a migraine or a hangover a day in their life.

He rolled over, which was a lot harder than usual with what was apparently a hundred and one different wires attached to his body, which: fair, considering the brush with death.  Even that one, small movement took a lot out of him. His body felt heavy and sluggish. He was pretty sure he'd been drugged, which made sense,  _ or  _ he was suffering brain damage and his motor functions had taken a really severe hit. That also made sense, but he had his fingers crossed for the former.  Or he would have if he could feel his hands.   
  
He squinted at the monitors beside his bed before realizing squinting wasn’t really helping a whole lot.  It was hard to get a good look at them from a horizontal position. He was working out the logistics involving lifting his head up off his pillow when he heard a loud, angry and very familiar voice in the distance.   
  
"Dr. Gottlieb!" someone cried out. "You can't--"   
  
"Report me," Hermann snarled and even half-conscious, maybe sedated, maybe brain damaged, it made Newt smile.   
  
The door clicked open softly and Hermann stormed in.  Maybe it was just everything catching up with him, or the drugs he may or may not have been on, but the sight of him hit Newt like a truck.  He felt like he hadn’t seen him in years.   
  
"Newton!"   
  
"Hey."

Whatever they’d hypothetically dosed him with had to have been some pretty strong shit, because even getting that one word out took him a second or ten.  He was actually a little worried about how bad his headache would’ve been  _ without _ pharmaceutical intervention because even through the brain fog it was still… bad.

Hermann gave him a soft, relieved smile.  “How are you?”

Newt took a few seconds to assess.  “Kinda feel like someone put my brain through a juicer.”

“I am sorry for that.”

“S’okay, I had it coming.”

He came closer to the bed and when Newt reached out what felt more like a noodle than a hand, Hermann gladly took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Did you… break in here?”

Hermann looked vaguely embarrassed.  “They’ve refused to tell me anything, for days.  I-- I feared the worst.”

Days?   


“How long have I been in here?”

“Four, including today.”

Newt rubbed his face with his free hand and managed not to poke his own eyes out, so at least some of his motor skills were waking up.  That was a good sign. “Geez. I’ve-- I’m pretty sure I’ve been out the whole time. That’s… a lot. That’s a lot of days to sleep.”

“Yes, well, you did say you planned on sleeping for a year.”

He peeked at Hermann from between his fingers.  He was smiling -- trying not to, but definitely cracking one -- and Newt laughed.  “Yeah, and I still plan to, though I think I’d rather do it, uh, not here.”

“I have space prepared for you, once they release you.”

“Gonna hide me in your closet?”

“While that  _ was  _ my backup plan, no, there are plenty of vacant quarters here and I was able to secure one for you, fortunately.”

Newt winked at him.  Tried to wink at him.  It was possible he might’ve just blinked at him.  “I wouldn’t have minded the closet.”

Hermann gazed down at him fondly.  “You seem… well. Heavily sedated, but well.” 

~

He was pretty sure if Hermann had his way, Newt would've been out of there that day, but his doctor wanted to keep him a few more days for observation and run more tests now that he was awake and alert... ish.  Now, Newt was all for making sure he wasn't going to suddenly drop dead or anything like that, but by the fourth day of being poked at and prodded, he was ready to go home. Beyond ready.   
  
Wherever home actually was, at this point, anyway.  At the very least, he wanted out of the med bay. 

Counting the days he'd slept through, he'd been there over a week and it already felt like it’d been closer to a year.  As bad as the cell had been, it had still been better than lying in a bed for days on end. Nobody had explicitly told him he couldn’t get up and walk around, or that he wasn’t allowed to leave, but the fact that he was hooked up to approximately five machines and his door was kept locked when visiting hours were over had been a pretty strong hint.  That and between his recovering brain injury and his meds, he still was having a bit of a hard time getting around.

Not that that had stopped him from eventually sneaking out of his room and getting as far as the end of the hall.  His nurse slash bodyguard who had left for five minutes to get a cup of coffee was not amused. By the time they finally did release him, he was pretty sure the entire medical staff was just as happy to see him go as he was happy to leave.

He’d gotten a pretty lengthy lecture about brain damage and “taking it easy.”  He was also told in no uncertain terms that he was expected to report any unusual symptoms, come in for check-ups on a regular basis, and start going to therapy.  All of which was important, probably, but he was tired of being told everything he  _ needed _ to do when all he  _ wanted _ to do was get the hell out of the medical bay and just back to whatever was left of his life. 

Which, he nervously realized as he finally found himself walking down the hall with Hermann to his new living quarters, was kind of nonexistent.  He’d spent the past  _ ten years  _ body-jacked by an alien hivemind.  He’d been aware for a lot of it, but not really  _ there _ for most of it, and now that he was free he wasn’t sure how much he had to actually show for any of it except a ruined would-be marriage, his name on a corporate blacklist that probably spanned a couple continents along with a ruined career, and not a whole lot else.

He still had Hermann, at least, and that was something, but by the time they reached his room, Newt was barely managing to contain an existential crisis of colossal proportions.

“This is it,” Hermann said, giving him a small smile.  “It’s not very well furnished, but there’s a bed, a working bathroom, a closet, and windows.”

“I’m a  big fan of windows.”

He’d honestly never cared that much before.  The lab they’d once shared hadn’t had any and sometimes he’d get so caught up in work that a week or two would go by where he’d barely see daylight, but it was amazing how much a person could start missing the sun when they suddenly had no choice in whether they got to see it or not.

That was true of a lot of things, really.

He walked over to the bed and sat, bouncing on the mattress experimentally.  He tried not to expect to see a big floating brain in a tube when he glanced up, but this place was not that place and it already felt more like home in the five minutes he’d been there than the apartment ever had.  Sitting there, he felt like maybe this whole thing could work. It was scary, sure, but it wasn’t like whatever the future held for him could be any worse than anything else life had thrown at him up until this point, right?  

The first thing on the agenda was a nap.  He’d deal with everything else later. 

He tugged at his shoes -- which had been a bitch to get on in the first place -- and frowned down at his shaking hands once he’d finally wrangled them off his feet.  It wasn’t that bad -- or, at least, not as bad as it could’ve been -- but it still wasn’t great. He’d always had more energy than he knew what to do with. He’d hit some pretty bad anxious highs in his day, but this was something different and it made him nervous.  The kind of nervous that really dampened the whole “what’s the worst that could happen?” mindset he was trying to cultivate for himself because permanent brain damage: that was probably the worst that could happen.

“I really hope that’s temporary.”

“Even if it isn't,” Hermann said, inching closer to the bed to scoop one of Newt’s hands up in his own, “it’ll be alright.”

Some biting part of him felt like saying,  _ That’s easy for you to say _ , but no, actually, it probably wasn’t -- and it wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate the attempt to make him feel a little bit better about his maybe-temporary-maybe-permanent motor control problems.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What did the doctor have to say about it?”

“That my case was ‘complex,’ which is just a fancy way of saying she has no idea, but it’s-- it’s alright.  Like you said. I’ll just hope for the best. I’d cross my fingers, but…”

Hermann gave him a soft smile.  “Would you like me to stay for awhile?”   


_ Yes _ .  “Nah, I’m okay.  You don’t need to babysit me.  I know you’ve got work to do.”

“It could wait, if--”

“No,” Newt said.  “It’s okay. Really, Hermann.  We’ll have time later, right?”

Hermann gave him a warm smile and, God, even a decade later it still made his heart feel like it was going to implode.  How the hell did he do that? “Of course.”

He hesitated there, hovering in front of Newt like he wanted to stay just as badly as Newt really wanted him to.  But whenever they did finally sit down together and had the time to actually seriously talk, whatever happened was going to be something Important with a capital I and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that just yet.  

He needed some time for that one.

~

After his nap, he decided to take a tour of his new room and familiarize himself with things.  

Someone -- maybe Hermann, maybe someone else -- had brought some of “his” stuff from “his” apartment and on some level, he appreciated the gesture but on a different, more visceral one, he kind of wanted to take all of it and chuck it into an incinerator.  

Some of it turned out to actually be his stuff, and that he would keep, but a lot more of it was  _ theirs _ .  He knew if he didn’t go through all of it now, he was just going to shove it deep in his closet, never touch it again, and probably have nightmares about really tacky suits crawling out of the shadows to eat him in his sleep, so he decided to just get it out of the way.  He started two distinct piles: his stuff and their stuff.

He had to admit, the actual distinction between the two was just hazy enough to be uncomfortable.  Whatever wasn’t his, he really  _ was _ going to toss in an incinerator.  He knew there had to be one somewhere in the Shatterdome and he wasn’t sure if he was actually legally allowed to use it at this stage of his rehabilitation, but he was going to.  It was going to happen.

A couple of the shirts definitely weren’t things he’d bought but weren’t actually that bad, style-wise.  He’d rather have flung himself off the top of the dome before admitting it or wearing them  _ ever _ again, though, so into the burn pile they went.  There were several pairs of sunglasses that were downright abominations.  Trash. His jacket --  _ his _ jacket -- was in there, that was a keeper.  By the end, more things were in the burn pile than the keep one.  That didn’t really surprise him, but it did leave him feeling kind of… some kind of something.

He glared at the pile for a few minutes before slipping on his jacket and scooping the pile up into his arms.  

~

He got as far as the entrance to the room the incinerator was in before someone stopped him and some part of him was chastising himself, internally, for thinking he could do something like set a bunch of shit on fire without someone somewhere having a problem with it.  The other, greater part of him was prepared to fight about it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”  

“Taking out some trash.”

“Those are clothes.”

“Oh, wow!  Very good!”  Newt waved a pair of sunglasses at the guy.  “Do you know what these are?”

The guy crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Newt silently like he was trying to decide if it was worth the effort of throwing him back in a cell or not.  He looked kind of familiar, actually, the longer Newt looked at him. He  _ might _ have been one of the rangers that came in periodically to question him -- them -- back when he had still been locked up.  If so, that probably explained the animosity. 

Newt sighed.  “Dude, look. I just want to get rid of this shit.  Is it really worth this hassle?”

“I could ask you the same thing.  Burning it seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Well, maybe I’m feeling a little extreme.”  The guy opened his mouth to respond, but Newt kept going.  “Someone  _ hijacked _ my body --  _ and _ my brain -- bought clothes to wear on  _ my _ body, and stupid sunglasses to wear on  _ my _ face, and none of it is  _ mine _ .  So excuse the hell out of me if I want to see it burn, okay?” 

The ranger blinked at him and Newt, catching himself, tried and mostly failed to hide behind the mound of clothes in his arms.

“You’re really just here to burn your clothes.”

Newt glared at him from over the top of the clothes.  “They’re not my clothes, but yeah, basically. What did you think I was here to do?  Blow up the Shatterdome?”

“It… crossed my mind, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The other man let out an exasperated sigh.  “Just do what you came to do and don’t make me regret letting you do it, alright?”

Newt nodded quietly, but the fact that he found the guy a little intimidating didn’t stop him from flipping him the bird once he turned his back and started walking away.  He waited until the ranger had disappeared around a corner before adjusting his grip on the pile of clothes and making his way towards the incinerator again.

It was time to light shit up.

~

When Hermann showed up on his doorstep later that evening, it was with a frown, and Newt could instantly tell he was in for it.  He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what “it” was, but he could guess.

“I heard from Ranger Lambert that you took a trip to the incinerator today,” he said as Newt ushered him inside.

Yep.

“Oh, that,” Newt chuckled.  

Hermann shot him a look.  “He wasn’t particularly happy about it.”

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the whole thing, either,” Newt said with a shrug.  “But he  _ did _ give me the okay to do it.”

“So he said.  He also said he didn’t want to see you lurking around there again.”

“Lurking, really?”  He scoffed loudly and walked away from the door, Hermann trailing behind him.  “I wasn’t lurking. And why would he tell  _ you  _ that?  You’re not my keeper.”  It came out a little sharper than he’d intended and he hurriedly added, “I mean, what happened was between him and me.  He shouldn’t be lecturing you about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, well,” Hermann sighed.  “Like it or not, people seem to find it easier to come to me about these things than you directly.”

Newt sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to look as depressed as he felt at the moment.  “Yeah. I guess sharing my head with an alien hivemind for a decade doesn’t exactly make me approachable.”

“It isn’t always going to be like this.  They’ll warm up to you. I know patience has never been your strong suit, but you just need to give them more time.”

“Not that guy,” Newt said with a snort.  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to stay right at the top of his shit list.”

“You’re certainly somewhere up there,” Hermann said, mouth twitching.  Newt definitely preferred to see Hermann smiling, even if it was kind of at his expense.  “But if it’s any consolation, he’s like that with most people.”

“You know him?  I mean, well?”

It made sense that he might.  Hermann had been here for awhile.  He and Newt had worked together for so many years, Newt was just so used to their social circles -- such as they were -- overlapping and now...  Well, now he had no idea who Hermann knew or even who his friends were or what he'd been up to lately, which made sense, he guessed, since they'd been apart for so long.  It just sucked to suddenly realize just how little he knew about Hermann's life now.

Hermann sat down beside him.  “Well enough to know that you aren’t nearly as high on his ‘shit list’ as you might think.  Otherwise, we’d probably be having this conversation between a door.”

His tone was light, but even at that, that drudged up unpleasant memories.  It must’ve shown on Newt’s face because Hermann reached over and patted him on the knee.  Newt smiled and laid a hand over his. They stayed like that for awhile -- Hermann didn’t move his hand, and neither did Newt.  He could almost pretend the past ten years and all the terrible shit throughout those years hadn’t happened. Almost. 

He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.  He squinted at a box he noticed sitting in the corner of the room.  It was a different, smaller box than the one he’d rifled through earlier, and it definitely hadn’t been there earlier.

Hermann followed his line of sight.  "I stopped by with some things that you left behind when you... left.  I had a feeling you might want -- or need -- them.”

“You had a feeling I’d roast all of their stuff?”

“Not specifically, but I suspected you’d get rid of at least some portion of it.  I wasn’t sure how much would remain when all was said and done.”   
  
Something clicked in Newt’s mind.  "You... still had my stuff? After all this time?"   
  
Hermann looked a little more than vaguely embarrassed when Newt turned his attention on him. "Not everything, of course, but... some things I kept, yes.  I suppose I always thought I'd send them to you, eventually."

"I guess it's a good thing you did.  Keep them, I mean. I think they pretty much axed most of my wardrobe out of spite."   
  
"Did returning the favor help?"   
  
Newt shrugged. "I mean, I don't know if it helped on a deep psychological level or not but it sure felt satisfying, yeah.”

They sat there in silence for awhile, and Newt was relieved to realize it wasn’t as awkward as he’d kind of worried it might be.  It felt companionable. It felt good. 

“I didn’t get you into serious trouble with Ranger Lamppost, did I?"   
  
"Honestly, no.  He was more irritatedly concerned than angry."  Hermann leaned in, a smile tugging at his lips and Newt thrilled at the closeness. "But I'd strongly recommend against calling him Ranger Lamppost to his face in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only regret with this chapter is that originally it was going to be from Hermann's POV and so I ended up cutting an entire section of Hermann dealing with the medical staff and being the bad-ass sort-of husband he is and only like 1% of that ended up in this version of the chapter haha.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN. Every time I think I definitely won't take a month to get the next chapter up, my life goes all to hell again and it once again takes a month (or........more). I'm sorry these take so long, but I appreciate you guys sticking with me!

Slowly but surely, day by day, Newt found ways to make his life feel like it was his again.  He started to settle in, personalize his space. He was probably going to be living there for the foreseeable future, after all -- at least until the PPDC decided what to do with him, and besides, Hermann was there.  He figured he might as well make the most of the situation, even if the situation involved wearing an ankle bracelet and getting glared at in hallways. After a couple weeks, it almost started feeling like home. If he didn’t think too hard about it, or dwell too much on the looks people gave him, or the regular trips to the med bay, it felt almost normal.  

Work kept Hermann busy, but he always made time to check in on Newt and spend time with him.  Part of Newt loved it, loved the attention, loved having Hermann around again after going a decade without him.  Another part of him felt like he didn’t deserve anyone’s company these days, let alone Hermann’s. Brainwashed and mind-controlled or not, Newt had hurt him -- in more ways than one.  Part of him wanted to keep Hermann close and another part wanted to keep him as far away as possible so he couldn’t fuck up his life any worse than he already had. He knew Hermann was already starting to catch shit for standing up for him, for insisting on helping him and having him stick around.  Newt didn’t care that much if everyone hated  _ him _ , but he didn’t want Hermann getting dragged into it, too.

That’s why most days, if he could help it, he ate lunch alone.  He knew Hermann would’ve fit it into his schedule, if he asked. Hell, he might’ve even if Newt  _ hadn’t _ asked, if he’d done anything other than sneak off to the mess hall alone before Hermann ever had the chance to offer to join him.  It was better that way, though. Newt didn’t need a babysitter and Hermann didn’t need to ruin his reputation anymore than he already had by being seen actively cavorting with the emissary of the apocalypse during his lunch break.

The mess hall was almost, but not quite, deserted.  He never went during the peak lunch rush if he could help it, which was tricky to pull off since there wasn’t just one specific lunchtime with all the various shifts coming and going at all hours of the day.  He probably spent more time than he should have planning and timing his food runs, but the fewer awkward run-ins he had with people, the better. 

“Hey, you!”

Newt sighed and only shot the guy a quick glance out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the tray he was shoveling food onto, a little faster now.  He didn’t recognize him, but the guy was built like a tank and heading straight for him. There was pretty much no way he’d been shouting at anyone other than Newt and he seriously doubted he was coming by just to say hello.  If he hurried, he could probably just act like he hadn’t heard him and leave. He picked up his tray and made a break for it. He definitely wasn’t running away -- just… walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”  

Shit.  

He was, at this point, walking about as fast as he dared with a plate full of food and his still not super reliable motor skills and hand-eye coordination.  He really didn’t feel like falling flat on his face on the way out the door, not that what ended up happening instead was a whole lot better. With his attention so focused on the exit, he hadn’t noticed the guy was darting between the rows of tables to cut him off until the guy was  _ right _ in front of him.  It took a pretty abrupt stop to keep from crashing into him.

“Hi,” Newt said.

The guy glowered at him.  “You deaf?”

“Uh, no.  You rude?”

His nostrils flared and that was all the warning Newt had before a hand shot out and slapped the tray of food out of his hands.  It -- and his  _ lunch _ \-- went flying through the air and scattered across the floor.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?!”

“You are.”

Oh, he so didn’t have the energy to deal with this today.  Probably wouldn’t, to be honest, any day in the near future.  Besides, if he’d wanted to get harassed during lunch by some guy twice his size, he would’ve gone back to high school.  He wondered if this kind of thing was ever going to end. What if he was just doomed to get harassed and yelled at for the rest of his life?  Maybe he even deserved it, but he was tired, and cranky, and not in the mood for an ass-kicking, whether it was deserved or not.

“A lot of people died because of you.”

He didn’t have to justify himself to this guy or anyone else, but he still found himself saying, “That wasn’t me.  Technically.”

“So if I smash your face in, what would that be, technically?”

As far as comebacks went, that one didn’t even make all that much  _ sense _ , but before he could finish saying, “Assault, probably,” the guy punched him in the face, hard.  That was the second time in just a couple months that he’d gotten decked so hard he saw stars -- three if he counted having aliens ripped out of his head a few weeks ago.  At the rate he was going, his brain was probably going to just turn into pudding. All that hard work and rehabilitation, all for nothing. 

He would’ve hit the floor if a table hadn’t broken his fall.  Instead, he managed to use it to catch himself, and just barely managed to roll out of the way to avoid getting punched in the face again.  He was less lucky when the guy’s foot came up to kick him in the ribs. He rolled off the bench and tried to sort of tuck himself under the table to make it harder for the guy to get another hit in.  When the guy reached down to try to grab him, Newt grabbed his fallen lunch tray, took half a second to mourn his fucking  _ lunch _ , and hit the guy with it.  Probably not the most dignified of fighting moves, but he was up against a guy three times his size and he had no illusions about being able to take him on in a fair fight.  He was in mid-desperate kick in the general direction of the guy’s groin when he heard someone shout.

“Stop!”

It’s not like they were the only two people in the mess hall.  It wasn’t at its most active, sure, but there were still people around.  People who had, up until this point, just been watching all of this happen.  Newt was just relieved that someone had finally had enough of the show because he was halfway sure this guy was really, seriously trying to kill him and he hadn’t had much of an escape plan once fists had started flying.

Now the guy was arguing with whoever had stopped him from trying to pulverize him, but the important thing was that he wasn’t trying to pulverize him anymore.  Newt sat on the floor for a few minutes to catch his breath and to take stock of things. His face hurt pretty bad and he could already feel things starting to swell.  Something somewhere was bleeding and he was too scrambled to figure out where specifically it was coming from, but he didn’t think anything was broken there. He was… a little less sure about his ribs, but it didn’t hurt to breathe -- much -- so he was probably okay.  He felt okay. Well, maybe “okay” wasn’t the right word, considering he was shaking pretty badly and his entire body was throbbing, but he didn’t feel like was dying or anything, so…?

_ So time to get the hell out of here. _

He carefully picked himself up off the floor, took a second to mourn his lunch, then quietly started limping his way towards the exit.

“Hey, hold on.”

God,  _ now _ what?   


Newt stopped, turned reluctantly, and came face to face with his hero.  It was Jake, Pentecost’s kid. Mako’s brother, too, though he did  _ not _ want to think about that detail right now.  He hadn’t really spoken to Jake a whole lot. Their interactions were hazy, like a lot of things from back when he’d been in the backseat of his own body were.  Jake was the last person he would’ve expected to stick his neck out for him. He, of all people, had every reason to want a front row seat for that beatdown.

Jake nodded at him, frowning as he scanned his face.  Newt knew he must’ve looked like shit. He’d probably look even worse in a few more hours. 

“You alright?”

Forcing his voice to work, Newt said, “Yeah, I think so.  I mean, my brain was already pretty scrambled, so who could tell the difference, right?”

That startled a laugh out of Jake.  “Seriously, though.”

“I needed to go down to medical in a couple hours, anyway,” Newt said with a shrug.  “I’ll have them check me out. It’s fine, really.”

“I’d like to say I can’t believe he attacked you like that, but…”

“Yeah.”  His voice shook and, God, the last thing he needed after that whole thing was to have a breakdown in the mess hall.  “Don’t worry about it. It’s--”

“--fine.  Yeah, you said.”

All of sudden, he just really couldn’t deal with it.  Any of it. He couldn’t deal with his lunch getting slung across the room when he was starving, he couldn’t deal with getting attacked by some guy who looked like the bastard lovechild of The Rock and a slab of meat, and he  _ really _ couldn’t deal with Jake hovering over him out of what seemed like genuine concern even though Newt had--

He had to get out of there.

“Uh, I gotta go.”

He didn’t wait for a response.  He probably hadn’t earned himself any points with Jake by sprinting away, but… 

Nope, still wasn’t going to think about it.

He did decide to err on the side of caution for once, though, and head down for his check-up a couple hours early.

~

By the time he got back to his room, he was feeling tired, still hungry, and miserable.  It was probably safe to head back to the mess hall and try to get some food again, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t run into someone  _ else _ eager to cave in his skull -- or that his buddy from earlier wouldn’t be hanging around hoping for another shot.  It pissed him off, a little bit. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life in fear of getting his ass kicked, but... he also really didn’t want to get his ass kicked.  

He flopped onto his bed, careful not land on his face, and curled up there with a dejected sigh.  

There was no way he was going to be able to hide this from Hermann.  He’d caught a look at his face in a window reflection on the way back to his room.  He was already starting to bruise where that first punch had landed and his lip had split pretty bad.  But hey, at least it wasn’t as bad as it  _ could _ have been.  Nothing was broken, his eyes weren’t swelling shut, he didn’t have a concussion.  Silver linings, right?

God, he was hungry.  He’d just wanted lunch, had that been asking for too much?  Apparently yes.

~

He was still lying there, having dozed off and on fitfully for awhile, when someone knocked on his door.  Not hard, but loud enough to wake him up from the weird dreams he’d finally fallen asleep soundly enough to have.  He sat up groggily and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He wasn’t sure if he’d just sat up too fast or if it was a side effect of getting punched in the face really hard.  Nobody had told him  _ not _ to sleep, and he supposedly didn’t have a concussion, but…

“Just give me a second,” he mumbled, staggering to his feet and making his way to the door in his socks.

When he opened the door, Hermann was there.  A very startled looking Hermann.

“What in God’s name happened to you?”    


Newt shrugged, tried to look more nonchalant and casual about it than he felt.  “Some jackass ambushed me when I went to get lunch today and, uh, beat me up. A little bit.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible, but Hermann turned a shade or two whiter and his voice was very tight when he asked, “Who?”

The last thing he needed was Hermann getting himself tangled up in this, too.  He walked back over to the bed and sat, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Hermann, just forget about it.  It doesn’t matter.”

“It most certainly  _ does _ \--”

“Dude--”

“You-- you shouldn’t have gone alone.  I should have gone with you. You could have called me.  We could have gone tog--”

“I didn’t need you, okay?” Newt retorted before he could stop himself.

Hermann kind of looked like he’d been slapped.  Newt kind of wished  _ he’d _ been slapped.  He regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth and it was good to know, really, that his brain was still firing fast enough to let him make a complete ass out of himself.

“Hermann--”

“I should go.”

“Wait a sec!  Hold on a just minute, please.”

Newt stood up too fast again and his head spun a little.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized it probably had less to do with getting punched and more to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day.  Hermann took a step towards him then stopped, looking uncertain and more concerned than angry.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Newt said softly.  “I just--”

“I understand,” Hermann sighed.  “It’s alright.”

“It’s not.  It’s really not.”

Hermann stepped forward and enveloped him in his arms, which was some kind of shit, how could he even stand to after--

Newt buried his face in his shoulder.  “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.”  He pulled Newt back to give him a once-over.  “Are you sure you’re not hurt too badly?”

“Yeah.”  Newt wiped at his face as nonchalantly as possible, hoping it looked like he was trying to get something out of his eye and not tearing up.

“I know you can take care of yourself.  I only wish I had been there to do help, because I care about you, Newton.” 

“I know.  Me too. Care about you, I mean.  I’m just kind of a mess.”

Hermann’s mouth twitched.  “And that’s a change?”

Newt laughed wetly and Hermann let out a soft chuckle, gently reaching out to touch Newt’s face, fingertips gently nudging at the busted up areas and looking like he thought if he concentrated hard enough he could use the power of math to fix it.

“It hurts, but it could’ve been worse.”

“I’m very glad it wasn’t.”

He could see the fear in Hermann’s eyes.  He tried to imagine how he would’ve felt if their positions had been reversed, if he’d been the one to find out hours after the fact that some asshole had ambushed Hermann and he hadn’t been around to do anything about it.  He wasn’t sure he’d even still be standing there, honestly. He’d probably be already halfway across the Shatterdome ready to kill a man. 

Newt licked his lips and he was asking before he could stop himself.  “Hey, do you think you might want-- could you stay?” Hermann blinked at him and he hurriedly added, “Would it be weird?  I know we haven’t been--”

“I thought I’d made my feelings rather clear, before.  Unless you don’t--” 

“No, no,” Newt said hurriedly.  “I remember all that. It’s just that people say and do a lot of things in the heat of the moment.  I wouldn’t expect you to-- I wouldn’t hold you to it, if--”

“I meant every word.”

“Yeah…  Me too.”

“I can’t pretend that the situation isn’t… complex, but my feelings for you never changed.”

It was one thing for them to dance around it.  It was one thing, even, for Hermann to kiss him back when neither of them were sure if Newt was going to make it or not, to make promises neither of them could even be sure they’d be able to keep.  It was another to have Hermann stand there, in front of him now, looking at him like that, and saying it, confirming it. Newt felt like he was going to wake up any second and this all would’ve been a dream, because what were the odds that Hermann would still love him, after all this time?  After Newt had left him the way he had? That he’d want him back after everything that had happened?

“I love you, too,” Newt just sort of blurted.  “Uh, just in case you--”

Hermann kissed him.  Newt eagerly returned the kiss, but not  _ too  _ eagerly because his face really did hurt like hell, but as eager as he could manage, because God, he had missed this.  He had missed Hermann so much. He loved him so much.

~

The nights Newt had spent alone in the apartment -- when he was aware  of them at all -- had been lonely ones. He’d never realized just how much he’d hated being alone until he’d met Hermann and suddenly _wasn’t_ alone anymore.  How much he loved having someone around who _got_ him.  (How much he loved having Hermann, specifically, around.)  How great it was falling asleep beside him, waking up tangled up with him in the mornings.  Going from having that to having nothing was maybe worse than never having it at all.  The apartment had been huge, the bed had been huge, and he’d been one tiny, lonely guy smack dab in the middle of it all.  To say he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed sharing a bed with Hermann would’ve been a lie, because he’d realized exactly how much every night he’d fallen asleep in a cold bed, alone, with even colder whispers in his head.

And now Hermann was here.  It was a lot to process, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“If I can ask--”

“You can ask me anything, Hermann.”

“Why did you leave?  Was it… your choice?”

“It was,” Newt said slowly, staring up at the ceiling.  “At least, I think it was, mostly. Yeah.” He didn’t know if it was even possible for Hermann to understand, even if he tried to explain, how  _ fuzzy _ so much was, what it was like, without having been through it and he never wanted Hermann to go through something like that.  “I knew-- well, I didn’t  _ know _ , but-- I knew something was weird.  I could feel it-- something… happening.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?  Why did you leave when we could have found a solution together?”  There was no accusation in his voice. Hurt, maybe.

Newt traced a groove in the metal plates of the ceiling with his eyes because he didn’t trust himself to look anywhere in Hermann’s direction.  “Because they wanted you, too.”

“They--” 

“I mean, I think they did.  I don’t know. It wasn’t like I could tell what they were thinking or anything like that, or that I knew they were even  _ there _ , really, but-- it was just this gut feeling I had.”  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I was afraid, I guess. That something bad was going to happen to you if I stayed.  That whatever was happening-- I’d take you down with me. Maybe that’s just what they wanted me to think, I don’t know, but-- but I couldn’t risk it.” 

“If we’d been together,” Hermann said, voice trembling.  “Perhaps they wouldn’t have been able to gain as strong a foothold in your mind.”

Newt opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him.  Hermann looked right back at him with such a distraught expression it broke Newt’s heart to see it.  “Or maybe they would’ve gotten two scientists for the price of one. How much worse would that have been, dude?  I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let whatever we would’ve ended up doing for them, together, screw things up worse than I ended up doing by myself.  I couldn’t let them do to you what they did to me, Hermann. I-- I couldn’t--” 

He suddenly felt like the weight of the whole day was finally collapsing on him.  The whole thing was just too much to deal with. Not even just, but the entire situation, starting from the minute he’d pressed that button ten years ago all the way up until now.  Hermann scooped him up in his arms and Newt was too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed about how much he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

“It was my idea to do it.  I’m the one who reached out to them.”

“And if you hadn’t, we would never have been able to close the Breach.  They would have kept coming and  _ everyone _ would have died.”

“Yeah,” Newt said numbly.  “This turned out a whole lot better.” 

“That’s not to diminish the horror of what happened,” Hermann replied.  “Sometimes-- sometimes there isn’t always the option for the ideal outcome.  I realize that might come as small consolation.”

“No, I get it, I just-- can we just...”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but Hermann seemed to understand.  He kissed the top of Newt’s head and Newt -- carefully -- buried his face in his chest.  He’d really reached his limit of what he could deal with in one day. Right now all he wanted to do was curl up against Hermann and stop thinking about anything.  

~

They laid there together in silence for awhile.  Newt couldn’t sleep, even though he felt exhausted and he could tell by Hermann’s breathing that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, either. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Newt said softly, “but I’m kind of afraid to fall asleep.  Sometimes I’d doze off and I’d wake up somewhere else.”

Just saying it out loud made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.  It was an ominous, shitty feeling and he hadn’t been able to shake it for days.  If anything, he was getting more paranoid about it instead of less. It was like the more time went by without it happening, the more worried he was that it was going to.  It was a thought that had crossed his mind more than once. What if they came back? Even the doctors had to admit they still didn't know exactly how all of it had worked to begin with.  So they were gone now, but who could be sure it couldn't happen again? Really?

“How often?”

“Too often.”

“They’re gone, Newton.”

“I know.  I know they are, but… how can we really be sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I know, but-- God, nevermind.”

There was several seconds of silence before Newt felt Hermann’s fingers run gently through his hair.

“Tell me,” he said.  “Please.”

“Sometimes nothing would happen for awhile.  I’d go a month and it’d just be me, and everything would be kinda normal, and I’d think, ‘Hey, maybe it was nothing, after all.’  Or-- maybe not  _ nothing _ , but something else, you know?  PTSD or-- or something. That maybe it’d just been my imagination, or maybe they got bored with me, or maybe they didn’t need me anymore, or maybe the connection had been lost.  Something. That maybe they were really gone for good,  _ really _ this time, but then-- it never lasted.”

“That was likely their intention: to throw you off-balance.”

“Yeah.  Probably, I guess, but how do I know that’s not what they’re doing now?  I mean, really?”

“When you wake up, you’ll still be here in this room, and so will I,” Hermann said.  “You’ll still be you.”

He sounded so sure of that.  It didn’t make the fear go away -- maybe nothing ever really would.  Maybe it was just something that’d always be there in the back of his mind, but knowing Hermann was there, hearing him say that…  It helped, even if it was just a little. 

Newt still felt, well, like he’d been punched in the face.  He wasn't really sure that he deserved a second chance. Not with Hermann, not with people like Meat Slab who wanted to beat the shit out of him or people like Jake who somehow didn't, or with anything else. But whether he deserved it or not, he had it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I belated realized the transition from the kissing to them being in bed might make it seem like they had sex. They didn't, I just figured we didn't need 300 words of them getting changed into their PJs and brushing their teeth. (Though in hindsight they maybe should've eaten something. Someone please feed Newt.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!! Hello!

It had been so long since Hermann had slept anywhere other than his own bed that when he woke up in someone else’s, it took a moment -- several, if he was being honest -- to realize where he was and also that he wasn’t alone.  What he had, in his less wakeful moments, thought was a pillow he was hugging to his chest was Newton. It was Newton’s room he was in, and Newton's bed.

Newt himself was still asleep, breathing softly, his face half-buried in his pillow.

Hermann had no way of knowing what time it was.  To check his phone would require disentangling from Newt, and doing that was likely to wake him.  The sun wasn’t up yet, at least, which meant Hermann didn’t need to be to the lab for a while yet. That was all he needed to know, for the moment.

He laid there, drowsily, relishing the warmth of Newton’s body against his.  He pressed his face into Newt’s shoulder and Newt made a soft, sleepy noise that made something in his chest loosen.  God, he had missed this. What a wonder it was to have this -- to have  _ him _ \-- back after all this time.  He fell back asleep like that, holding Newt close, and when he woke again the sun was only just barely starting to spill its light into the room.  

Just a few moments later, Newt woke with a startled jerk, tensing for only a fraction of a second before relaxing against him. "Sorry,” he mumbled sleepily.   
  
"It's alright.”   
  
Hermann hesitated, wondering if he should give him some space now that he was awake, but then Newt laid a hand over his, entwining their fingers. He looked over his shoulder at him, an unspeakably tender look in his eyes. He said nothing, which was unusual for Newt -- or, at least, unusual for the Newt he had known years ago, but he supposed they’d both changed a bit since then.   
  
"I told you we'd both still be here," Hermann said softly.   
  
Newt’s smile was small but genuine.  "Yeah."

“How’s your face?”

“Not bad, considering that guy was built like a brick wall.”

Hermann traced the lines of Newt’s face with his eyes, the mottled purple around his eye and across the bridge of his nose.  He knew Newton would rather him let sleeping dogs lie, but he wanted to find out who had done this. Jake would probably know or, if he didn’t, could help him find out.  It didn’t seem right to let this man, whoever he was, get away with what he’d done. At best he needed to be reprimanded in some official capacity. At worst…

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Then knock it off,” Newt replied, muffling a yawn against the back of one of his hands.  “You’re thinking way too hard for this early in the morning.”

Hermann pressed a soft kiss to the unbruised side of his face and Newt hummed softly, lying back on his pillow and settling against him.  They laid together like that for a long while, the two of them dozing in and out of consciousness. He knew he had to get out of bed soon, get to work, but he would’ve given anything to just take the day off and spend the entirety of it right here.

"I ran into Jake yesterday,” Newt said, voice quiet.  “He's the one who stopped that guy from pounding me any worse than he did."   
  
"Did you talk to him?"   
  
"Like in general? Or about... that?"   
  
"Either."   
  
"Well, no. I kind of ran away. But I... probably should have. Talked to him, I mean. But we were standing there and he asked me if I was alright and my brain just-- shit. Seized up on me, I guess. I mean, not literally, but..."   
  
Hermann gently kissed the side of his head. Newton sighed and, if possible, slouched against Hermann even more, as though he thought he could shrink into his pocket.   
  
"I probably should have talked to him."   
  
"You should, at some point. I'm not certain right after being attacked would have been the ideal time."   
  
"I don't think there's ever going to be an 'ideal' time. I killed Mako, Hermann."

Even now, months after the fact, Hermann had a hard time accepting Mako was gone.  Sometimes he half-expected to see her walking through the halls. On several occasions, he could have sworn he  _ had _ seen her.  A common enough feeling to have when someone he’d known for years was suddenly gone, he supposed.  It was hardly the first time the war with the kaiju had claimed a friend. 

“That wasn’t you.”

“Hermann--”

“It was  _ not _ .  I realize the distinction is… a difficult one to make, but you --  _ you _ \-- would never have done anything to hurt Mako, much less kill her.”

“They couldn’t have done what they did -- any of it -- without me.  Even if it wasn’t my decision to do it, I’m still the  _ reason _ it happened, Hermann.  Everyone who died, died because of me.”

“What did that man say to you, yesterday, before he attacked you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Newt muttered.  “Like, yeah, he was an asshole, but he didn’t say anything I haven’t already been thinking about.”

“You are as much a victim in this as anyone.”

Newt fell silent.  Hermann didn’t know what else to say to help -- if anything would -- so he just gently pulled Newton close.  There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a few moments ago, but he let himself be held with a soft sigh.  

After some time had passed, Hermann said, “I sincerely believe that Jake doesn’t harbor any ill will.”  Newt snorted. “I’m serious. If it weren’t for his and Ranger Lambert’s support, I’m not sure that I would’ve been allowed to do the work that eventually led to your… liberation.  In my eyes, you have them to thank for it as much as anyone.”

Newt glanced at him over his shoulder, looking uncertain.  “You really think I should talk to him?”

“I’m not trying to pressure you.  You should do it on your own terms when you feel that you’re ready for it.  I know it won’t be an  _ easy _ conversation, but… yes, I think you should, for both your sakes.  It’s the only way to move past it, unless you plan on simply avoiding him for the rest of your time here.”

“Well--” Newt began.  Hermann poked him in the ribs and Newt laughed sheepishly.  “Okay. I’ll do it. Maybe not today, maybe not  _ tomorrow _ , even, but… I’ll talk to him.  It’s the least I can do, right?”

Hermann knew he had to get an early start if he wanted to make it back to his quarters before he had to head to the lab, but he was reluctant to leave.  

As if he knew what he was thinking about, Newt said, “How much longer can you stay?”

Hermann pressed his face into his shoulder.  “Awhile yet.”

~

Hermann had planned on trying to find Jake sometime during his lunch break.  He was surprised when there turned out to be no need -- Jake showed up at the lab just a couple hours into his work day.  

“Hey, Gottlieb.”

“Ranger Pentecost,” Hermann greeted warmly.  “I was hoping I’d see you today.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to thank you, for helping Newton.  I shudder to think of what may have happened if you hadn’t intervened.”

Jake nodded.  “How’s he doing?”

“Well enough, all things considered.  He’s been… struggling and I’m afraid that incident didn’t help matters.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty shook up.”

“I don’t suppose you might know anything about the person who assaulted him?  Like the fellow’s name?”

He gave Hermann a knowing look.  “I do.”

They stared at each other meaningfully for several moments before Hermann asked, “Would you _ tell  _ me?”

“Look, doc, this guy has a chip on his shoulder as big as his muscles.  If you go after him--”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can look after myself.”

If Jake wouldn’t tell him, it’d be an unfortunate obstacle, but not an insurmountable one.  If he had to, Hermann could find out what he needed to know some other way. It would take longer, but… 

“I can have his personnel file on your desk within the hour.”  Jake paused and tilted his head. “A couple hours, maybe, but I’ll get it to you.  Just promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

“I didn’t intend to challenge the man to a duel,” Hermann said wryly.

“I mean, you’d probably win, but then I’d have to explain to Nate that I was an accomplice to murder and that would be awkward.”  Hermann chuckled at that and Jake grinned at him. “Look, I know you know well enough not to do anything stupid, but I also know how much Newt means to you.  You sure you’ll be alright confronting this guy?”

“I honestly can’t say,” Hermann admitted.  “I just know that I can’t stand by and do nothing.  The man could have very easily killed him. He could try again, for all we know.”

“Yeah,” Jake sighed.  “I talked to Nate about kicking the guy out of here, but neither of us can technically fire him.  The most we could do is tell him to leave and hope he does it out of the kindness of his heart, which… yeah.  It’s a load of bureaucratic bullshit.”

“I have no more authority than either of you do in that respect, but… he doesn’t know that.”

“What if he calls your bluff?”

“Well, if worse comes to worst... as I said, I can take care of myself.”

~

Hermann didn’t consider himself a particularly spiteful person.  He knew, rationally, that many people had what they believed to be valid reasons to hate Newt.  Even though word had spread that he hadn’t been in control of his actions, Hermann could understand how that could be hard for people to grasp.  Some of them had lost loved ones during the kaiju attack, which was a difficult thing to cope with even at the best of times. The fact that Newt had done what he did under the influence of the precursors was likely of little consolation.  He knew this, and yet that didn’t stop him from discreetly doing some digging, asking around, learning more about the individual who had assaulted Newton the week before. 

He flipped the personnel file shut with a heavy sigh.

It wasn’t a question of whether he had enough pull to take this man’s job.  Over the years, he had made enough connections that if he raised enough of a fuss about it, he could see it done.  If he didn’t want to go that far, he could also make the man’s life in the Shatterdome very difficult. He just wasn’t sure what purpose any of it would serve, beyond satisfying some petty desire for payback.  

He supposed he just wanted to know who this man was, why he chose to do what he did.  What the chances were that he might do this again.

The file offered no solid answers.  As far as he could tell, none of the casualties were personally connected to the man in any way.  He apparently had a history of picking fights. Newton wasn’t the first and unlikely to be the last person he’d attacked.  

Penchant for violence or not, though, Hermann doubted that this man attacking Newt was a coincidence.  He had been targeted. And if he had been targeted once, there was no way to be certain he wouldn’t be again.  If the various reprimands Mr. West had accumulated up to this point hadn’t curbed his attitude any, he seriously doubted anything Jake or Nate may have done or said to him would have.  

If they had a marshal at the Dome, Hermann would have gone to him.  Nate and Jake, together, were running things in a very temporary capacity until a new marshal was assigned, but they didn’t carry the authoritative weight someone higher ranking may have.  Neither did Hermann, but…

He was going to have a little chat with Mr. Frank West.

~

Having read his file, it wasn’t hard to figure out where to find Mr. Frank West.  He was a creature of habit, apparently -- his activities were fairly predictable. And so Hermann knew when he was most likely to “accidentally” bump into the man on his way back to his room from the mess hall.  From that point, it didn’t take long at all to find him. The photo in his personnel file did him little justice. Newton hadn’t been exaggerating about his size. 

It made Hermann’s stomach clench, to look at this man and realize that  _ this _ was the person who had attacked Newton.  He had been incredibly lucky to have not been hurt much worse than he’d been.  If Jake hadn’t come along when he had...

He shuddered to think of what could have happened -- what could very well still happen if this man or anyone else were to attack Newton again.  He did his best to set the thought aside. He needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. 

He waited outside, in the halls, until West emerged from the mess hall.  He didn’t want to confront him in front of a crowd and make a big scene. Although in retrospect an audience may have made West more reluctant to anything foolish.

It was too late to worry about that now, however.

“Mr. West?”

West jerked his head in Hermann’s direction and gave him a sour look that told Hermann he knew who he was and had his suspicions about why he’d been lying in wait for him.  “Yeah?”

“I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.”

“I know who you are.”  His tone was anything but friendly and it immediately put Hermann on edge.  

“Yes, well, I was hoping we might be able to speak.”

“What about?”

“About the incident with Dr. Geiszler yesterday afternoon.” 

The other man snorted.  “Oh, that.”

“Yes,” Hermann said, not quite able to keep the bite out of his tone, “that.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.  The guy deserves worse than the little love tap I gave him.”

“It was my understanding you gave him several.”

“Still got off lucky.”

Frank kept walking, not bothering to slow to a pace Hermann would have an easier time keeping up with, and Hermann wasn’t a fool -- he knew it was on purpose.  It only added to his growing ire. 

“Mr. West,” he hissed.  “You  _ will _ stop for a moment and speak to me about this.”

He was actually a bit surprised when the other man obeyed, abruptly coming to a stop and nearly causing Hermann, who’d been angrily scrambling after him, to walk right into him.  He spun around to face him and Hermann reflexively took a couple steps back -- just to be safe.

“What is there to say?”

“A great deal,” Hermann replied.  “You seem to be under the misimpression that Dr. Geiszler deserved your  _ unprovoked _ attack.”

“Unprovoked?” Frank’s nostrils flared.  “Is that what you’d call it?”

“What would you call it?”

“Justice.”

“Justice?  Really? Newton Geiszler was instrumental in our victory against the kaiju.”

“Sure, and then ten years later he brought them  _ back _ .  People died!”

Hermann glowered at him.  “And if it weren’t for him, all of us --  _ everyone _ \-- would be years dead.  What he did all those years ago was stupid, and reckless, and dangerous -- and if he hadn’t done it, we wouldn’t have been able to close the Breach.  Countless more lives would have been lost. He did that, he risked that, to save people. And he’s paid for it. He’s sacrificed more of himself than you’ll ever know.”

“You think he’s the only person who’s sacrificed something in this?”

“I know damn well that he isn’t, Mr. West.  We all have. I wonder what your family would make of you bullying a man -- a victim of this disaster as much as anyone else is -- who has a hard enough time trying to recover from what’s happened to him, much less defending himself against a man twice his size.  Do you think they’d be proud?”

There had been nothing in Mr. West’s file about any family.  There had been so much chaos when the first kaiju made land -- and then the next -- that it wasn’t at all uncommon for some things to simply fall between the cracks.  Hermann could tell, though, by the look on the man’s face that he had guessed correctly. It was an unfortunate fact of life that more people than not had lost family to the kaiju at some point or another.  It was a low blow and Hermann knew it, but not one he regretted landing. He was  _ angry _ and if West got away from this conversation with nothing more than a few hurt feelings, he was still getting off too easily.

Frank gave him a steely-eyed look and said nothing, which was probably as close to an understanding as they were likely to reach.  Hermann hadn’t gone into this expecting an apology. He turned to leave, and Frank muttered some obscenity under his breath. Hermann took a moment to consider that, then he turned back around and smacked the other man across the shins with his cane.  Not as hard as he could have -- he didn’t want to cause any serious injury -- but hard  _ enough _ .

Frank doubled over, clutching at his legs.  “Oww! Fuck! Son of a bitch!”

“In the future, I would suggest you approach your interactions with others with a bit more tact, Mr. West.  I had half a mind, when I first found out who you were, to give you a good thrashing in repayment for what you did to Newton.  One day, I fear, you might cross someone without my level of restraint.” Frank glared up at him silently and Hermann added, “I don’t want to hear of you harassing him again.  Is that understood?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, it is.” 

“I could have your job for this.  Your superiors are already less than pleased about the incident -- it wouldn’t take much to convince them that keeping you around is more trouble than it’s worth.  But that would solve nothing, leave us short a decent mechanic, and wouldn’t undo what happened. Unlike you, I’m capable of putting grudges aside.”

“That why you hit me with your fucking cane?  Because you don’t hold grudges?”

“I said I was capable of putting grudges aside, not that I didn’t hold them.  And I hit you because force seems to be the only way you know how to communicate.  If you think your shins hurt now, just think of what might happen the next time you  _ irritate me _ .”

It was pure bravado, of course, but he was hoping Frank wouldn’t realize that.  He was definitely angry enough for it to sound convincing.

“Fine.  You win.  For whatever’s it worth, my beef was never with  _ you _ .”

“Your ‘beef’ was with Newton and that means that, yes, it was also with me.”

“You can’t protect him from everyone, you know.”

Hermann said nothing.  

~

Jake looked at him expectantly when he walked into the command center.  “How’d things go with our not-so-little friend?” 

“It could have gone better,” Hermann admitted.  “It could have gone worse. I don’t think he’ll be bothering Newton again anytime soon, at least.”

“Sounds like it went about as well as it could’ve.  I mean, you weren’t expecting him to bake Newt a cake, were you?”

“No, but I would’ve liked to be more certain that he was more convinced of the error of his ways.  I’m fairly certain all I convinced him of was the strength of my arm.”

Jake raised his eyebrows and gave him an impressed look.  “That’s not nothing.”

“I’m not in the habit of resorting to violence.”

“You don’t got nothing to be ashamed of, Gottlieb.  If you ask me, the guy needed to be knocked down a peg or two.  It’ll probably go a longer way towards adjusting his attitude then filing a report would’ve.”

“Do you really think so?”

He shrugged.  “Hard to say. Guys like Frank don’t always know when to quit, but… if you -- either of you -- have more problems with him or anyone else, let me know, alright?”

Hermann nodded.  

“Look, if I was in your shoes, I’d probably have done the same thing," Jake said, tone reassuring.  “I think anyone would’ve.”

It was hardly as though Hermann had given Mr. West a huge thrashing, but he still couldn’t help the sour pit in his stomach.  He’d hoped he’d feel better about things once the matter was laid to rest, but he couldn’t help but worry. Not just about Frank West, but about the entire situation.  About Newt. He wondered if the Shatterdome was really the safest place for him, now. How long before something like this happened again? Or worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this chapter took so long to post was because the sheer badassery Hermann exhibits was too strong to be unleashed and I was trying to contain it (that's not the actual reason, but stuff happens, what can you do).
> 
> Frank West is not actually my character, by the way, haha. I was just playing a video game one day while working on this fic (the chapter before this, actually) and thought "that's him, that's Meat Slab," and have pictured him in this role ever since.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title comes from the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06ht9MyJLT4) of the same name, which came on while I was writing this and ended up being.....................eerily on-point, honestly. I feel personally attacked.
> 
> (The question is whether it was Newt or the hivemind that broke off the engagement and I'm not telling.)


End file.
